Hidden Paths
by lemonlimesweetness
Summary: Things cant seem to go right for Daria after her family dies, but when she finds herself with a rich new family, things look up. If only Prince Jerrold would just leave her alone!
1. Prologue

Summary: Daria was a former peasant girl until a tragic accident occurs

**Prologue**

A small and delicate ten-year-old merrily hummed herself a tune as she washed a heap of food-stained crockery. She had donned a simple, crème day gown: a cheap one with a rough texture, large stitches, and many stains.

She automatically scrubbed each dish, rinsed it off in a small tub, and then wiped it dry with a tattered rag. She did each without even thinking about it. Instead she envisioned her self about seven years hence. Would she still be working at the inn? Would she still be dressed as scantily? Would she even be alive? As she was about to place down another platter, a loud voice rang out from the other room, "Daria!"

Upon hearing the voice break through the previous silence, Daria suddenly jumped back, startled. Her elbow hit the sink behind her and the dish slipped from her grasp. It shot up straight into the air, and for Daria it seemed as though time stopped. She stumbled back to try to catch it but hit the tub, thus causing it to spill the sudsy water all over the hard wooden floor. Then it got worse. She slipped on the water; fell flat on her back, and just barely caught the large ceramic platter. By the time she got back up, Daria finally noticed the throbbing pain in her elbow. She slowly pushed back her sleeve to inspect the wound. There was a bluish-purple bruise that dotted the area where her elbow had hit the sink, and slowly inflating around it was a reddish swell. She winced as she gingerly caressed it with her fingertips. Wearily, she collapsed onto the floor, her shoulder-length waves sprawled out around her head.

"Daria! What are you doing just lying around there?"

A middle-aged man stood leaning on the doorframe. He had dwindling black hair and a bushy mustache. He was tall and lean with pallid skin. Clothed with merely a cotton tunic, brown breeches, and a ragged apron, it was easy to tell that money was scarce.

Daria stood up, her icy blue eyes twinkling. Suddenly, she erupted into laughter. In a few seconds, she was laughing so hard that she almost fell down again. It took a few more seconds for her to retain herself.

"If that's enough--," her father started, but that was all it took for Daria to start giggling once again. Each minute wore by with more peals of laughter, her father kept trying to get a word in between chuckles.

"Dinner" giggle "is in" giggle "five" giggle "minutes!" more giggling. Clutching her stomach, Daria nodded to show consent and then returned to the floor, still laughing. Her father walked back to the main room, muttering something about 'children'.

When Daria finally caught her breath, she walked over to a small hand mirror on the table at the side of the room. She raised it up and looked at it. To her, it showed a small porcelain girl, with her wavy black hair in a right old mess. The only thing Daria actually liked about herself was her eyes. They were big and almond-shaped. When she was happy, they twinkled with life, and when she was mad they were icy, and you felt as though she could see your every thought as they poured deep into you.

She gazed at her self for some time, and then she reached over to the table, where laid a single wide-tooth comb. She brought it down through her hair, trying to tame it. After that, she went back to the sink and washed her face with the cheap kitchen soap. It was the only thing her family could really afford when they had all their other expenses to think about. She dabbed her face softly with a dish rag, and walked out the door for dinner.

The inn was bustling. Guests were running up to their suites while travelers, folks here only for food, rushed out. Daria's father was outside, turning a sign on the dirty glass window outside, while a woman and two other children hustled to each table to clear them and clean them.

It was closing time for the inn.

Daria stepped swiftly behind a crevice so as not to be swept up in the closing rush. After the downstairs of the inn was cleared out, and after Daria's father finished locking up the front and back doors, the family pushed two tables together for supper.

Daria took an uncomfortable chair beside her Mother and younger sister and brother, _twins._ Her mother had short, ragged blonde hair that was drawn into a messy bun. Deep set were two shining brown eyes. She was slightly plump and short. The only thing she had in common with Daria was her skin color. Other than that they looked nothing alike. Her twin brother and sister were only 2 years old. They took on the look of their mother with blonde hair and brown eyes. In fact, Daria was the only one in her family with blue eyes. They little twins were Emilline and Daniel, but they like to be called Emma and Danny. Daria's mother's name was Gina, and her father was Michael.

Everyone in the family tucked in. Settled on each plate was a slice of coarse brown bread, a chunk of cheese that was studded with hazelnuts – they had some growing in the backyard and this year's lot was abundant – and some sort of vegetation; it was the exact same thing that they had yesterday, and the day before that, too. Next to each plate was a simple tumbler filled with water. Daria inwardly sighed. She had dealed with poverty since she was but a baby, but it still bothered her every time she glanced at her measly dinner. She took her small and dented fork and dejectedly poked her broccoli and carried it to her mouth (or as we commonly call it, the _pie-hole_). When she finished her vegetables, she moved on to the bread. As always, it was stale and flavorless. To try to give it more appeal, she ate some cheese with it. She almost brought the cheese to her mouth when she noticed the green spots that appeared in big dots around the surface. She squealed and threw the moldy cheese onto the floor.

"Daria! What was that for?" asked Gina.

"It's moldy!"

"We're sorry Daria, but it's all we have." It was her father this time. She sighed, out loud this time and carefully picked the spoiled morsel up. She then tossed it into the garbage bin.

Suddenly a thought came to Daria. _It's my birthday tomorrow! _She realized with a jolly acceptance. After a few minutes, she asked her parents. "Tomorrow's my birthday……" she said warily. Both her parents looked at her.

"Yes, it is" said Michael.

"So….. I thought that for my birthday present I could have a birthday cake, and maybe even a new gown."

"Oh, Daria," her mother looked at her remorsefully. "Daria, we know how much you deserve it, but you know that business has been slow lately and….."

"…….and you can't afford it," Daria finished impassively.

"Daria we're so sorry," Gina started saying.

"I know" Daria said. She put down her plate, not very gently though, and trudged upstairs to her room.

"Daria!" Michael shouted, but she ignored it. She swung open her bedroom door and threw herself onto the small bed. After a while, when she finished slamming her pillow against the wall, she crept down to the base of the stairs and hid in the shadows, still un-noticed by her parents. Emma and Danny had already headed/been sent upstairs after Daria did. Now her parents were alone downstairs. The other guests of the suite were already sleeping, not a care in their minds as they dreamed.

After Michael made sure no one was there, still not seeing Daria, he headed back to the table where Gina was seated. There was a slow creak as he pushed the table back to its former position, the place it was before the family had dinner. As he dusted the windowsills, Gina started speaking.

"Michael, it _is _her 11th birthday. Maybe we could break the budget for one day." Michael sighed, "Gina, that's the problem." He paused for a few seconds and then said, "I didn't want to say in front of the kids, but I checked our income and our expenses…………we're broke," he blurted out.

Behind the staircase Daria's eyes widened and she blanched as she heard the news. "What!" Gina exclaimed and she mimicked Daria's expression. "Yes it's true, I am going to Ayortha to ask a favor from an old friend and maybe he can help us……………." Daria would not hear anymore, she ran up the stairs not caring whether or not her parents heard her.

She went back to her bedroom, her mind muddled with thoughts.

_We are broke? That cannot be right!. And I can't believe I asked for a cake! And a new gown! What was I thinking? It's the same thing every year. And Father is going to Ayortha; that isn't fair! How long will he be gone? _

Footsteps were heard coming up the stairs, it was Michael. Daria could tell from the type of footsteps. Smack! Thunk. Smack!

She took her thin quilt and encased her body with it. She pretended that she was sleeping. "Daria?" he checked whether or not she was asleep. Daria did nothing, but to be cautious, she breathed deeply and moved her chest up and down in a steady rhythm.

Michael sat down on the edge of Daria's bed; there wasn't that much room left because Daria's bed was miniscule. He then laid his hand on her head, "Daria, I'm sorry," he said. Then with one last look at his slumbering daughter he headed to the door. Right before closing the door, he whispered, "Goodbye." And then he closed the door.

The next day, Daria woke up late, around seven. She was usually woken up by 5:30 so that she could do her chores: help make breakfast, dust around the inn, clean the suites, and other such things. There was only one occasion in which she was allowed to be woken up this late. She realized that it was her birthday! She rose cheerily and crept downstairs, not wanting to alert the others of her presence. Daria was surprised when she found, instead of the happy faces that she was used to, the faces here were dreary in comparison.

Daria saw an absence of the pleasure usually in store for each day. Instead, there were teary faces.

Gina was walking around, dusting the same places over and over again, she looked close to tears. Emma and Daniel were already crying, tears streaming down their little chubby faces. _What's going on? _Daria thought. And then it hit her.

"Dad."

Gina and the twins looked at Daria with surprise etched into their face when they heard the inaudible whisper.

"Happy Birthday, honey," Gina said, trying to look happier but still looking miserable.

The twins, however, brightened up considerably when they saw her.

"Halply Blirfday!" said Emma.

Danny just came and hugged her. Daria smiled. The twins were only two years old and they did not really see the importance of the matter.

"Where's Father?" Daria asked, even though she already knew the answer.

"Your father has to go to Ayortha for a little while, hun."

"Why!"

"Sweet, we need money. That's why"

"Oh."

Six week later, an unexpected visitor came to our inn. It was the Ayorthian prince, Oscaro. Though Daria would rather it had been her father, she was still astounded that such an important visitor would have arrived, and he was received with great pleasure. What wasn't received well was the grave news he carried.

"Good day," he said in a gravelly voice. His face was smiling, but upon further inspection, Daria realized that his eyes said differently. And her smile was immediately replaced with a frown; his majesty didn't notice. _Would he give bad reviews about the inn? Would he make customers stop coming? Would he get our license revoked!!_

The rest of the day, Gina and Daria cared for the princes every need, and tried to extol all of his wishes. When he asked for a stew for lunch, Gina spent the whole morn trying to make it perfect. When he asked for a mug of ostumo, an Ayorthian delicacy, for dinner, Daria spent an hour going on the streets to find an Ayorthian that could give her the recipe.

When the day came to a rest, and the inn cleared out, the prince was the only one left. He sat down and requested an audience from Daria and her mother. Danny and Emma were sent up to their beds to sleep.

As they sat down, Daria asked, "Sir, if you may, could you tell us of our father? Michael of Frell?"

"Ahhh, yes that is what I wanted to talk about." The look in his eyes returned. Was it reluctance? Daria didn't know.

"You see………" and he related the entire story back to them.

_It was time for the most respected tournament of the year. The treasured prize was the song diamond. It was worth at least 1000 gold yorthys, or in Kyrria, 10 trunks of gold KJs. Swordfighters from all over, from right there in Ayortha, from Kyrria, even the distant land of Pu, came to contest against each other. The battlefields were close to the castle itself. It has stands encircling it, holding rich nobles desperate for enjoyment. There were long, thin, metal poles on the corner of the battlefield, almost touching the stands. Draped between these poles were large squares of black metallic mesh, put there to protect the audience in case of any accidents. I was sitting right at front, and I watched as each man fought, with all their strength, fueled by greed: all but one. And he was Sir Michael of Frell. Each fight lasted about an hour. And each round, a day. So the time until the final round was a month durance. In the final round, there was the Duke of Jenn, a location that is in Kyrria itself, and your father and husband, Sir Michael of Frell. The fight that stood between them was grueling, but as each opponent grew wearier, and the swords turned heavier, the fight came to an end. Using his last morsel of energy, Sir Michael dispatched his adversary. In this way he won the tournament; he won the song diamond, too. He turned his back to the Duke of Frell, to take in the praise from the audience. Then, the Duke, overtaken by greed, drew his sword, and….and…..he….the sword was thrust, through Sir Michael._

Daria turned deathly pale, as did her mother.

"And?" She said, shakily.

The prince sighed.

"I am sorry to say that Sir Michael," he turned his head away, for he couldn't bear to look at the pair, "Sir Michael is gone."

Daria let out a sob and huddled over, her body shaking. Gina just blinked, unwilling to believe it.

"The Duke was sentenced to execution. I came here to tell you. And, I came here to give you what is rightfully yours: the song diamond."

Drawing a cloth colored sphere from his cloak, her passed it onto Daria; Gina was now crying so hard, she could do no more than nod.

Daria took it, tears still streaming down her cheeks. She unraveled the cloth, made of satin, and took it in.

The Song Diamond was beautiful. It was an unnatural golden color, and it reflected the small amount of light that came from the seven lamps that hung around the walls of the inn. All the same, it was taunting. Yes it was gorgeous, but it was no substitute for Daria's Father. This is why Daria refused it. It was a foolish mistake, but Daria hated it. And she hated herself.


	2. Chapter 1

Hey, I didn't know how to put in an author's note in the previous chapter, so I guess I'll just put in one now

_Hey, I didn't know how to put in an author's note in the previous chapter, so I guess I'll just put in one now. Ok for all the confusion in the last chapter, Oscaro is the Ayorthian king, and ostumo is this drink made with molasses you can find info on both of them if you read Gail's other book, __Fairest__; it is set in the same world as Ella Enchanted and I personally loved it. And I have gotten only review so far, which makes me sad. If anyone has a question or any comment just post it on the review thingy and I will answer __**all **__of them on the next chapter, or at least I'll try to._

_**Bored2hyperness: thank you. I was almost sure than no one would actually like this little story. And yay for you. You are my 1**__**st**__** reviewer, you reviewed even before my so-called-friends did (I'm talking about you Emily)**_

_Disclaimer: I forgot to put a disclaimer in the last chapter, and I don't want to get sued, so here it is: I do not own any of the recognizable characters and other thingy ma bobs. _

**Chapter One **(Five years later)

Daria stood in the kitchen bent over the wooden washboard, once again washing more dishes. First came a platter. Wash. Rinse. Dry. Put it on the rack. Grab new cup. Wash. Rinse. Dry. It was a dreary task that soon fell into rhythm so she didn't even have to hesitate as she scrubbed away at a fork streaked with grease from someone's meal, leaving plenty of time for her to think.

It had been about five years since the death of Michael she, and his absence seemed routine. When they had gotten the news of his death, Daria was too confused to think properly. Oscaro had offered them limitless luxuries in the form of the Song Diamond, but Daria selfishly refused it.

The beautiful stone reminded her why her father was dead; it was all because of her. She was the one who made a big fuss about a cake and a new gown for her birthday, not content with what she already had. Daria did not have much, but she could think of many ways her situation could get worse. She could be an orphan on the streets starving to death. Her life was just fine; it was the materialistic greed which caused the whole thing that troubled her at night.

A resounding crash snapped Daria out of her brief reverie, curiously stepping outside to inspect the scene. On the floor of the inn was a pale blue ceramic bowl-- or at least it used to be a bowl. Now it was reduced to no more than a few porcelain shards scattered across the rough wooden floors. Close to the crash was Daria's mother, Gina and a drunken man who giggled every time Gina bent down to clean the mess with her stained rag, making it difficult to clear the mess.

Upon seeing Daria, Gina stood up and lifted her skirts. Shuffling closer to her, Gina whispered into Daria's ear.

"Hun, could you please escort this nice man up to his suite?"

Daria inwardly groaned. Drunken guests were a common thing in their small inn, but they were _always _unruly. The aroma surrounding them was pungent, and their manners un-settling. It was hard to balance them after they had taken a rather large dosage, and they were just down right rude.

There was one certain drunk that Daria had an experience she'd rather not remember.

_The inn was dark; it was close to nightfall and the closing of the inn. Off by a secluded corner was a table slightly hidden by a fern. Sitting at this table was a strong, muscular man, sipping a mug of ale. He had bloodshot eyes and a dazed expression. Every night, when the inn closed, the bottom floor was required to be deserted. While Daria was dusting of a ledge, the man caught her eye. Placidly putting down her duster, she walked over to the man._

"_Sir, it is closing time; you must leave."_

_The man looked up with a petulant expression. _

_"He he he, she think me a sir. He he he, ma name's Arnold he he he," he slurred._

_"Sir, you need to go."_

_"She kinda pretty."_

_"Sir, please, you need to go back to your home." And with that, Daria took his arm to show him out._

_Arnold got up with her, but then tightened his grip on the girl – 15 years at that time – and pulled her closer, trying to give her a kiss. But drunk as he was, he missed and instead smacked her nose. Daria's eyes widened and she took her hand and gave him a sound slap right on his cheek._

_Arnold's eyes darkened dangerously._

"_Arnold not happy," he growled, advancing on to Daria._

_Slowly, Daria backed away, but the inn did not go on forever and she knew that eventually, she would have no more room to escape. As she retreated, Arnold came drew closer, his arm now raised in an angry fist. Daria gulped, feeling the firm wall behind her and dreading what was coming next. She winced, feebly covering her head to prevent a blow to the head as she prepared herself for the hard hit._

"_hehehe now the pretty lady has no where to go," he said as he brought his fist towards her at a surprisingly quick pace. Thankfully, he was so intoxicated that he missed completely._

"_Help!" Daria was strong, but she was no match for this bulk of a man._

_"Daria?" Gina walked downstairs to see her daughter being assaulted by some man._

_Fortunately for them, staying at the inn was a knight from the royal military; he was in his suite, the best one when he heard the cry for help and rushed downstairs. The man was thrown out, and the next day he was arrested for assaulting a female._

Not wanting to have that night's events repeated, she took care to get the guest safely to his suite. Taking him gingerly by his bulky arm, Daria led the man slowly up the stairs. The stairs were old and creaky, so each step that Daria and the man took made them croak, and it sounded quite like a strangled frog. Each time the step groaned under the weight of the pair, the man would emit an unusual, high-pitched giggle.

_It's only a few more minutes until I get him to his suite _she thought grudgingly. A few minutes could take forever. Each step they took made Daria more and more repulsed by him. By the time they had gotten to his suite, she wanted to take him back to the staircase and just push him down. He was despicable!

Finally Daria got back to her own bed, in desperate need of a bath. How she longed for a good hour or more to have the bathtub all to herself, soak in the warm sudsy waters and scrub away all her trouble and stress. But of course, she could not, for they had a limited water supply and she had already used hers. In fact, she was allowed a shower only every other day. It was all her family could really afford when they had all the guests to look after. After all, the guests used a lot of water, and they were up to their necks taking care of that, so showers every day would just make it worse. Much, much worse. She leaned back on her bed, carefully slipping past Emma's bed, which took up one-third of the room. The other one-third was taken up by her own bed pushed against the wall next to the doorway with the remaining one-third occupied by a battered dresser filled with what little possession they had. She glanced over at the rise and fall of Emma's chest covered by the threadbare quilt, and smiled.

Emma's bed had been moved over to Daria's already cramped room, which made it unlivable, for there was hardly any room to spare between the two, but she didn't mind much then, there are one to having favored Emma of the two, and she made for an easy companion, always listening intently and a quiet sleeper. The latter was especially important. Emma and Danny had grown up since their father had died. They were both seven, and they had matured considerably. They were no longer as plump as they used to be; now they were scrawny. Danny no longer liked to be called 'Danny'. He preferred 'Daniel' instead. Emma, though, favored 'Emma' over 'Emilline'.

Daria had also grown from the time of Michael expiration: she was taller, about 5 feet and six inches, she had gotten quite slender, a perfect body shaped from years of hard work taking care of the inn. She was quite attractive, if you washed away all the dirt, perhaps combed her hair, and dressed her in a gown rather than the tattered rags she wore now.

Grudgingly, Daria got up to head back downstairs. The night was still young and she had many chores that she had not yet completed. She slowly turned the doorknob. Then she gently pushed to door, hoping that it would not make its usual creak, and would be silent to leave her sister sleeping peacefully. Daria never was a lucky person. When she opened the door, it made a deafening _squeeeaaaak,_ perhaps just to spite her. She looked back, praying that her sister had not woken up. If she had, it would take an eternity to get her asleep again. She tensed, pausing to listen for any murmurings. None. Still, Daria decided to be safe and tip-toed over to her sister's bed, gently leaning over to peer at her sister. Her _still sleeping_ sister.

Daria almost sighed in relief, but she caught herself just in time. She would not make another sound. Sneaking back to the door, she closed it with a barely audible click. This time, the fates went with her and it made not a sound. She headed back downstairs grudgingly. She didn't want to do her chores, her feet dragging limply behind with her arms numbed from pain.

Today, the inn had run out of firewood; Daria was told to fetch more. Heading outside with a large sack, she went to the small forest, only half a mile away. But to her dismay, they had fenced off to outside visitors. So instead she had to walk six miles away to the Auburn forest. Six dreary, long miles away. The going, for sure, was easy, but coming back was not. Walking six miles uphill with a heavy stack of firewood on your back was not an easy task. _No not at all. _Daria thought as she relived the moment. Finally, she neared the bottom of the stairs. Her mother spotted her.

"Daria, you're done for the day. I can close up myself."

"Are you sure?"

Closing the inn was not easy. You had to shoo the guests back up to their suites, and you had to kick out all the guests who were not staying over night. Then you had to lock up the front and back doors, but not before you turned the 'open' sign to 'closed'. It was a tiresome business.

"Yes, of course I am sure!"

_Well it would be nice to get some rest._

"Thanks Mother."

Daria headed back upstairs to her bed. She carefully maneuvered herself around all the clutter and Emma's bed till she finally reached her own. Sinking into the soft or at least, partly soft mattress, she closed her eyes and rested off the whole day's work. But she found that falling asleep wasn't that easy. She tossed, and she turned. Daria could not fall asleep. A thought nagged her mind, an annoying little voice whining that she had forgotten something go after something.

When she realized that she could not fall back asleep, she headed downstairs to fetch herself a glass of water a day of the end that inning had gone on and run back on the deny that the government stopped listening to a stop listening one thing every one of the stop listening and was that listening intently and a misstep. Gina and everyone else were already upstairs sleeping. _Lucky them_ she sighed, shuffling into the kitchen. She took a beaker from a shelf in the kitchen and headed outside to the freshwater spring they had a little way away from the inn, walking for about a minute until she reached the small stream. The inn was no more than a hazy silhouette lit by the silver moon overhead.

She gently scooped up a glass of fresh spring water, unaware of what was happening behind her.

_Back in the inn, the pudgy man woke. His head throbbed as he got up dizzily from his cold bed. Hangovers are extremely distasteful. He stumbled to his fireplace and lit it with a wooden match. His eyesight was blurry though, still fogged with sleep and his throbbing headache didn't help the cause much. He fumbled around clumsily, feeling for the fireplace and blindly struck the match, throwing the burning flame into his idea of the fireplace. He wasn't quite sure what was what, but when the air in front him warmed, he was sure that he lit the fire right. He was oblivious to anything but the comfort his pillow and soft blanket provided. But unseen on the dry wooden floor was the lit match. The burning red flame spread out encircling the room, hungry and eagerly licking up the flammable curtains and hay used to stuff the mattress, setting the whole inn alight._

Daria yawned, stretching lazily as she settled back to admire the cool night when suddenly she smelled— smoke? Glancing around, she found nothing and dismissed it to a traveler's pipe smoke when she turned around, only to find the whole inn ablaze in a raging bonfire. Once again, her whole life came tumbling down again.

A/N: This chapter was really short, but from now on, I guarantee that they will start getting longer. So if you're like me, and you are peeved by short chapters, hold on in there……………AND REVIEW!! Please?


	3. Chapter 2

Daria was frozen in shock as she watched smoke billow out from the roof of the inn

_Disclaimer: If some of you are naive enough to even think that I might be Gail Carson Levine, then I fear that you are horribly mistaken. But hey! Give me some credit, I mean, after all, I did come up with the plot!_

**A/N: Umm, yea, I'm at a loss for what to say so I guess I'll make this short and sweet….REVIEW! For the two of you that have actually reviewed (Emily, you don't count :P), you are the main reasons that I am continuing this little story.**

**Bored2hyperness: **Don't worry things will look up for Daria, just not in this chapter ;). Plz keep reviewing.

**Aida: **I must contradict you on some notes; a story truly isn't interesting without problems, but don't worry, things get better in the next chapter. Oh and yes, I saw the movie before I read the book, and at first I loved it, but then it occurred to me to read the book, and after I did; I hated it (the movie, not the book). The book is now my favorite and it is the only book I can read repeatedly without getting bored. And as for that updating thing, I am a loser who has nothing to do all day so you can expect updates quick! I'm not speaking daily (unless it's a weekend or the summer) but pretty close. These past days I've been updating in tow or three days; that sound promising to you? But I am trying to get the chapters longer so I really am not sure. Keep hanging in there .

Daria was frozen in shock as she watched smoke billow out from the roof of the inn. Her eyes were wide, flashing icy blue then a fiery red as the flames flickered and mirrored the horrible scene before her. Her mouth dangled open, seeming to gasp for air like a fish out of water, all the while doubting the reality.

Suddenly she tripped and fell, having been unconsciously backing away, she now splayed out against the muddy ground. This was not a dream. She struggled to free herself from the mud's suction-like pull, eventually succeeding but not before soiling her dress further. It didn't matter anyways. Without even bothering to dust herself off, she ran. Ran as fast as she could towards the blazing orange dot bobbing along the horizon. Houses, cottages and fields of various crops passed in a blur, jumping wildly over potholes and hurdling over low picket fences. She was getting closer and closer to the inn although a taunting voice inside her head mocked _It's too late._ She sprinted without really looking anywhere except the fire, a tower of glowing red and orange flames, dancing and teasing her.

The night was dark and dreary, only a faint glow came from the Far East where Daria was headed. The long green grass lay tall and soft on the ground, undisturbed by human forces and dusted with the early coats of morning dew. In this part of Frell, the houses were crude and not really sought after for their rich quality and comfortable interior. In fact, they were roughly made: they had choppy roofs made out of wooden planks and tall stems of hay, walls and floors made out of dried out mud, with the interior being no better than a dirt floor with cheap whitewash brushed onto the walls for a splash of color.

She passed by one of these many houses. It belonged to Old Farmer McGraw, rumored to be crazy and the blame of the younger kid's games. Truth be told, Daria had heard that he was so crazy that every fortnight, he went down to the Lake Salda, fifteen miles away with his bare feet. Then he would dive into the lake, still fully clothed and talk to the geese and fish, telling each about his day. A young baker's son had recently told her that he saw Farmer McGraw reciting a recipe for pineapple liver to the small lake creatures.

When the baker's son had told her the atrocious rumor, she had just laughed it off and continued doing her chores, but as she neared the farmer's front porch (the fastest way to get to her house. If she went around the porch, it would only take another five minutes to get to the inn), she could not help but feel a bit wary. Her attention split between concern for her family and curiosity of the farmer, she didn't notice the old, rusty shovel propped against the house.

It had just been lying against the dark wood of the house, pretending to be invisible, just waiting to trip someone. _Stupid shovel. _Looking at her knee, Daria winced. It was already covered in a pool of red, the large gash in the middle of the incision had come from the shovel's head. Before she could think anymore though, the door opened –with an obnoxious squeak I might add. There standing inside was Old Farmer McGraw, and Daria was lying on the floor in front of him. Her widening eyes and agape mouth signified that she was in fact terrified. But rumors, most of the time, turn out to be just that.

"Are you alright lass?" he inquired, sincerely. If he was as loony as most people had conveyed, he certainly didn't show it.

"Fine," she mumbled, quickly scrambling up and turning to run, still being cautious of the supposedly-strange man.

_Perhaps he isn't that crazy. I have much to tell to the son of the baker._

Just before she left hearing range, she heard something that transfigured her previous thought. "Those kids, they remind of me of my pickled artichokes." He said in his gruff voice.

She rolled her eyes. The son of the baker would hear nothing from her. Pickled artichokes! The absurdity! Turning her thoughts back to the inn, she quickened her pace.

The winter grass crunched under her bare feet; she was half way there.

Though _not _reaching the inn on time would be disastrous, she did not want to reach there too quickly. She was scared of the consequence it would bring. And thought she willed not to be, she knew there would be pain, and she was scared of that too.

All too soon she reached her destination. She stared despairingly at the handle. The handle was made out of iron and usually was shining. Now it was glowing red from the heat of the fire. She looked around, looking for a utensil of some sort that she could use to open the door. _There must be something here._

She looked around, but it was fruitless. There was nothing there. Then she looked down, she was standing on one of the many random patches of wild grass that were scattered across the ground. She bent down, and her knees were instantly wet, a surprising fact that the dew had not yet evaporated despite it being so close to a raging fire. _Perfect._

Taking clumps of the grass into her hand (carefully so as not to let the water drip), she made a pile slightly to the left of her. Then, she tore a narrow strip of her gown, her dress now shortened until it came only half-way across her knees. She put the woolen strip on the ground and wrung the dew-stained grass above it. The cloth was now thoroughly damp.

She cupped it in her hands so it wouldn't lose any of its moisture, and hurried to the door. After she slapped it onto the handle, it sizzled and steam rose from it. Working quickly so it wouldn't soon get hot, she firmly grasped it and turned it around, pulling the door to her, grateful she had left the door open when she had gone to get a drink of water what seemed like ages ago.

The inn was steadily turning from its dusty brown color to that of charcoal black. The walls were lit up with individual fires gracing the surface of each one. Daria looked around, the crown of her head growing steadily hotter by the second. She looked up. The ceiling was about to crumble! Daria charged up stairs, but not soon enough. As she raced across the room, desperately trying to reach the stairs, the ceiling gave way.

Before she knew it, Daria's world was black. Her eyes instinctively closed with reflex as the roof crumbled on to her. She tried to breath, but air was scarce under the rubble. She could only spare one breath from her frail body, realizing that if she stayed any longer with out action, she would suffocate!

Daria frantically felt around her; her fingertips, up to this point, were more important than her eyes. Finally, she skimmed across a hard solid surface. She took it from where it was firmly wedged. She realized from the scratches and grooves here and there that it was the old slate she used to draw and write on.

She used the slate as a replacement for a shovel to dig above her, trying to find a surface. At first, she was unsure what was up and what was down, but gravity soon cleared that question, immediately setting to work on the tedious task of tunneling up.

She hit the burnt remains above her and it came tumbling down into her face, but she didn't care. She hit it again, but to no avail as more dirt hurried to fill in the gaping hole left. After a minute with only three breaths, she realized that she wasn't making any progress. he shoved the slate into the dirt next to her, and flailed her arms. She just pretended that the ash was water, and she was swimming under the glass-like surface. She stuck her arm up as high as it could go. The tips of her middle and ring finger felt warmth. _The fire! Air! _

Daria soon realized that she was just below the surface. She had previously not known how deep it was. She moved into what she figured to be a standing position and swept her hand to the side. Soon the blinding orange glows of the fire were once again visible, and she felt a small sense of accomplishment and pride despite the life-death situation.

Daria glanced frantically around, blinking away the dust that had flew into her eye as she shuffled blindly about. She looked through the hole that she had created and met a fiery red blaze. She took her hands around the side of the tunnel, clawing at the sides in hopes that the hole would widen but quickly scratched that plan off as she recoiled at the sudden heat. Her only way out was to jump. Closing her eyes, she braced herself for the hard impact and on the count of three, thrust herself through the slim gap. Sixteen years of hard labor actually paid off.

Half crawling, half tripping, she managed to worm out of the mess. Above her, she could see the second floor from where the ceiling gave out, but she had no time to marvel at this little fact.

Daria bustled upstairs, hoping they wouldn't give way under her added weight, and raced to the closest room, hers. Inside, her eyes widened with horror. Lying feebly on the ground was Emma, and engulfing her was the fire. Emma looked at her painfully.

"Daria! Help!" she choked between coughs.

The two beds were flammable, stuffed with straw and layered with thick blankets of wool, and had caught the fire. Seeing as Emma was in one of these beds, she realized with a sickening feeling that her innocent little sister was slowly being roasted alive. She was too shocked to speak, so she just nodded. Daria reached over to Emma but couldn't extend her arm far enough so she could get her safely out of reach of the flames. Frantically looking around, her eyes settled on the little passage that connected their room to the bathroom. Grabbing an empty pitcher on her crumbling bedside table, she ran.

The restrooms were in perfect condition in comparison to the rest of the house save for the soot marks where flames had licked the stone tiles, yet to be touched by the fire. Daria, not noticing this, hastened to the tap and turned the water on, trying to fill the pitcher. When the usual trickle came out, she panicked. By the time she got enough, Emma might……. She didn't want to think about it. _There has to be something._

Her eyes turned to their commode. Despite the fact that it was a chamber pot she was looking at, she stared at it like an unexpected present on Christmas. Sitting besides the bowl was always a bucket of water, to flush out the basin after you were finished doing your 'buisness'. Thankful that she had remembered to fill it earlier, she eagerly grabbed it and raced back into the bedroom.

"Emma? Emma I'm here!" she gasped, inhaling a sharp breath of the toxic smoke.

She took the pitcher and doused the flames around Emma. Emma's eyes were now closed, but her face was twitching from the sting.

Daria gingerly picked Emma up and led her out of the room. She was just about to head over to Danny's and her Mom's room – when Nathan had died, Gina had deemed their room to have enough space to fit Danny, and Danny's and Emma's room was made into another suite which gave a boom to their business, a small one – but she was stopped when the wooden frame that supported part of the house fell, making a fiery blockade.

Gina was fit enough to make it out with Danny and herself, so thinking this, Daria took Emma downstairs.

When they got back downstairs, she saw that she fire had died down just a tiny bit, mainly because it seemed to have run out of fuel, most of the hay thatching on the roof and other timber furniture eaten away by the fire. She stepped on the soft dirt from the ceiling with her bare feet; she was looking naught but ahead.

Stepping out into the cool night air momentarily cleared Daria's thoughts. _Emma! I need to get her away from here, but where? _The pond.

She broke out into a run, heading out to the spring that, or so she thought, saved her life. She ran across the forest outside the inn. They were sitting there, peacefully, un-knowing of what had taken place. Nothing had changed, or so it would seem from _that_ point of view. Half way there, she slipped on some grass and came tumbling down. That was when she got her first _real _sight of Emma.

She blanched. All over Emma's body were chalky white burns, her face swollen and red in a comical way made her appear like a tomato. But there was nothing funny about this. Her hands were disfigured and the ends of her beautiful blonde hair were singed.

Daria sobbed. She could imagine what Emma had gone through. And when she did, her chest pained.

_Emma laughed. She was in a bright meadow; it had mint green tufts of grass swaying in the breeze happily here and there. Weaving through out them were lavender colored flowers. They were dainty and fragile. She slowly picked one of them up and secured it in her glowing hair, and then she looked across to the horizon. There stood a majestic unicorn. His pelt was the pure shade of ivory and his mane flowed into the imaginary breeze like silk. Attached onto the top of his head was a smooth horn. It was brighter than gold, and it was harder than diamond. She ran to the unicorn, still laughing for an unknown reason, perhaps because she was just that happy. She reached over with her hand to finger the golden horn, but the moment she grasped, her hand got burned. Even when she let go of the horn, her hand burned, as though on fire. And her hand wasn't all. Her entire body did as a putrid aroma entered her nostrils. Suddenly, Emma sprang to life. She opened her eyes and looked all around her. The room was on fire. She looked at her hand that had gotten burned and saw that it lay on her bedside table, which was alight. She quickly hurried to make an escape, but before she could, her bed caught on fire. Next thing she knew, she was engulfed in a blazing pain, and so intense she couldn't even manage a sob. For dreadful minutes, or maybe even hours, she just lay there, writhing in pain. Then her eye-sight narrowed and the pain dulled. One of the last things she saw was piercing blue eyes. She felt her mouth shape out words, and she heard a distant echo, but other than that, she was aware of no more, and slowly she fell into an un-ending sleep._

Daria took the rest of the journey to the spring with Emma cradled into her arms. When she reached her sanctuary, she gently laid Emma down next to the shoreline. For almost an hour Daria just leaned over her sister, watching her shudder in her sleep and wake up to have fits, only to go back into her deep sleep.

Just as the moon reached its peak in the sky, Emma woke up, her eyes barely little brown slits, looking up at Daria.

"Daria," she said hoarsely. Her throat was dry.

Daria gently scooped up some of the clear water of the spring at brought it to Emma. Emma leaned over on one hand, and greedily lapped up the water from Daria's hands. After satisfying her thirst, she laid down once again. When lying down, her head skimmed the grass, and once again her body convulsed with a coughing fit. Her eyes were slowly glazing over as she lost her strength.

The fire at the inn had dwindled considerably, and everything inside was reduced to soot, but smoke still hissed out, the gentle draft carrying it along the breeze, spreading to where Daria and Emma laid. Drifting over their heads, it blanketed the sky, clouding the dark night, the moon no more than a pearly sliver barely visible beneath the onyx black cover.

"Goodnight Daria," Emma managed to whisper, her eyes fluttering close.

"Emma, no"

"I'm sleeping."

"Emma, please. Wake up!" she said, shaking her.

She didn't stir.

"Emma, please. Please!" Daria sobbed. Her arms circled her little sister, burying her head against her chest as she heaved her last breath, wrapping her in a tight embrace. Her fingers brushed across one of the rubbery burns strewn across her skin. What was left of the moon's light disappeared, leaving her in the dark stillness of the woods, even the animals of the night in respectful silence. Once again, she was alone.

A/N: I was gonna make it like longer, but if I had extended this to the length I would have liked, it would have taken much much longer to update, so I just stopped it here. Things will get worse in the next chapter, but look alive, because then, it starts getting better, and clumsier 


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

**A/N: OMG! I'm am sooooo sorry! I didn't start to work on this until Emily reminded my that I actually **_**have **_**a story…..and adoring fans! Hopefully they are still adoring. Has it really been …. 19 days? But I made it longer! It would have been **_**even **_**longer if ****somebody**** didn't tell me to stop. Tell me though, do you think long chappies are boring? Anyway, 19 days is what I call really late, but some authors say that a year is really late so be lucky I am not like them. **

**OtterPotter: Don't worry ;) it gets better**

**Bored2hyperness: Actually, I have never been through anything like that. Just come up with it from the top of my head. But the detailed descriptions I get from my beta, Wallaroo! Three cheers for her! Actually, nah, she's not cool enough. The only chapter she didn't help me with was the prologue. The driest one.**

**Aida7: don't worry, like I said things will get better. I only try to make this many bad things happen to a person when the rest of their life will be happy. If someone is going to die, I have to make their experiences happy. I'm just nice like that. (please ignore any snorts in the background, my friends are retards)**

Chapter 3

The sun dawned on a new day, glinting from an unseen force and blinding any passerby that happened to glance upon it. The sky was blue with puffs of marshmallow clouds here and there; some where wispy and stretched on and on for miles while others indeed seemed as the cylindrical shape of a marshmallow. The wind that swirled across the vast plains was making the forest's trees sway. Their shadows stretched across the forest floor, stretching their limbs out for a taste of sunshine that so evasively eluded them. The little spring glowed in all of its sapphire glory; it reflected the sun's everlasting glow, throwing of course any bird passing over. On the bank were splashes of flower, every color ranging from a fiery ruby red to a dark indigo. Next to the tiny river and the beauty that winter so often veiled, with Emma in her strong clutch, lay Daria, unaware of anything around her.

Thinking nothing of the two humans that laid almost un-moving on the ground, a tiny blue jay fluttered it wings back and forth, trying to gain wind. When no such luck happened, it slowly drifted down to the pond still not giving up as its wings moved more and more frantically, wanting to be airborne. Again, a sudden gust of wind ruffled the tiny bird's pastel feathers and took it skimming across the spring, the wings not longer having need to move. Its four-toed claws unsettled the water and the tiny teardrops of the river flew along the bank. These droplets also splashed onto Daria. Like a whip, her eyes opened, piercing into the sky above her.

In most stories that you have heard, the main character has probably had atleast _one _tragic accident. It isn't a story otherwise, right? Of course, in those overly clichéd stories, the characters sleep on the problem, usually, and then when they get up, they are hit by a sudden bout of confusion, only to be jolted back into reality, remembering that all was not well. Once again, I am only reminding you of those out-dated fairytales or other stories modeled after these. Daria was not blessed with such luxury. She knew the minute she woke up, or maybe even before that, that Emma was gone.

She was laying so innocently on the grassy green bank, almost sleeping, only she was deathly cold. Her skin, so pale, reflected the sunlight like would a bleached peeve of parchment. Her hair was colored shades darker, giving a deathly aura around her.Tears that had failed to fall during the night before spilled out, streaking the dirt that layered on her cheeks. Her chest throbbed. Never again would she and Emma play together again. All those times were over an no matter how much she tried, they wouldn't, or the couldn't return. No more playing tiny, harmless prank on Danny and Gina, no more sneaking downstairs for a midnight snack, no more sharing problems and no more consolation. All those treasured moments were gone. And more importantly, so was Emma. And now, Daria was alone.

She sprawled out on the grass, lying flat on her abdomen with Emma on her side. Glistening tears crawled down her dirty cheeks and fell, from the rounded point of her chin to the rich grass next to the river. She laid there flat, her arms around her head, making an 'o' shape, her head getting sore from pressing down onto the dry grass. Her nose was stuffy, forcing her to breathe from her mouth, and her eyes were red, making the icy irises even more cold, and scary. She had cried herself out, yet, she did not feel any better. Truth be told, she felt worse. She huddled over, her forhead indented with grass and dirt, same as her nose, still shivering violently from crying so intensely. Her breathing came out shallow and un-even through her parted lips. Shoulders, sharp and narrow as they were, rocked up and down with an irregular, rough rhythm. After an awfully pedestrian hour, Daria finally calmed down enough so she could think straight. That's when she realized something terribly daunting.

It was her fault. Looking back, it all made sense.

_A resounding crash snapped Daria's head up, causing her to curiously step outside to inspect the scene. On the floor of the inn was a pale blue ceramic bowl-- or at least it used to be a bowl. Now it was reduced to no more than a few porcelain shards scattered across the rough wooden floors. Close to the crash was Daria's mother, Gina and a drunken man who giggled every time Gina bent down to clean the mess with her stained rag, making it difficult to clear the mess. _

_Upon seeing Daria, Gina stood up and lifted her skirts. Shuffling closer to her, Gina whispered into Daria's ear. _

_"Hun, could you please escort this nice man up to his suite?"_

_Daria inwardly groaned. Drunken guests were a common thing in their small inn, but they were always unruly. The aroma surrounding them was pungent, and their manners un-settling. It was hard to balance them after they had taken a rather large dosage, and they were just down right rude._

_"Oh, and hun! Can you light his fire; I don't want another guest trying to light their own fire!"_

_Daria just sleepily nodded it off. She took the drunken man to his room and trudged back to hers, forgetting the words of Gina._

_It's all my fault!_ Daria fell back down, harshly hitting the back of her head on the soft and slick grass. It was all her fault, and now Emma was… was… she was gone. But her mom and Danny could still be alive! She crawled over the grass. She felt a slight unconformity in her knee, but though nothing of it. It often happened if one slept in the wrong position. She lifted herself to her feet infront of Emma, still feeling uncomfortable in her lower leg, but not counting on it to trouble her. She bent down and lifted up Emma in her arms, toned by years of carrying firewood and scrubbing floors, her stomach resisting since it was famished. Suddenly, a pang in her knee brought her back to the ground. She dropped Emma whose head banged down on the grass, bouncing back once, a tiny bit, and let out a cry of shock and pain. Her knee was as red as it should have been if she had taken a chunk of the gravely road and rubbed it on, pretending her leg was a cheese grater, and the road was the cheese, and it was also swollen, twice the size of her other one, inflated like a balloon. In the middle was a purple gash lidded by flakey and dried blood. The wound was infected. She silently cursed that shovel as she felt it with her hand. It stung slightly, but it was not unbearable. Still no good putting pressure on it, but what choice did she have?

She headed back home, Emma cupped in her hands, so that she wouldn't place any un-needed pressure on her injured knee. She needed to get back home before Danny and her mom decided to leave, if they were still………..fit.

Instead of taking the usual path straight home, she detoured over to inside the woods. It was a small forest and whenever Daria needed to clear her thoughts, she stepped into the shadows of the forest. The deep and dark depths had her feel related to the forest, whenever her mind was murky. And somehow, the coolness affected her knee, not making it smart like did the burning hot sun. She stepped carefully through the array of leaf litter on the ground, making sure that Emma or her knee didn't get any scratches from the prickly thorns or pointy leaves or the bracken colored brambles, Emma being her main preference. Finally, the forest reached a stop and Daria headed out into a clearing, past a few trees that were heavily laced together, making it physically impossible to see past the gapless trunks.

The sun streamed through the branches of the trees and made the ends of the leaves turn golden, also making it possible to see the rays in the air; it dappled the chocolate colored dirt on the floor, where just about thousands of (A/N: evil) butterflies fluttered the multicolored wings (evilly), the ground seeing alive and dancing. Daria had arrived in a clearing, a surreal haven. The clearing was outlined with many intertwined trees. It was impossible to see anything outside of this leafy border. The grass able to be seen beneath the vibrant (and evil!) colors of the butterflies was unusually soft, shaded with a hue of light green. A perfect hideaway. Of course, with more important thought of finding her mother and Danny in her head, Daria sped off to the other side of the clearing paying no attention. As she ran, or rather limped as best as she could with her wounded knee, the butter flies, flew off, finally noticing a disturbance. They flew, swirled, up to the top of the clearing, as high as the trees reached. This awakened the birds in the trees-of which there were many- having them fly overhead, it was a spectacle. But without even a _slight _incline of her head, she headed back the forest with only one thought in her head: _Must find Danny and Mother. _At last, she navigated out of the forest to the paved stone path that led straight to the inn.

There was nothing left but burnt black ashes. The whole place was a wreck. Slowly placing Emma down on an un-singed patch of grass, Daria gingerly limped through the rubble. The wreckage was in the shape of the top of the roof, for this was the shape that it had fallen in, not daring to venture in the path of the wind. The entire house had collapsed. Instead of giant splinters of wood and plaster as one would imagine, like if there had been a twister, the entire inn was just ashes, a fine powdery substance, leave for a few metal and un-broken glass and other random items that had the liberty to not be reduced to cinders. She trailed the ash through her hands, letting it slip through her hands as did her life, one knee resting on the ground, turning black, hoping to find an item that was undamaged by the wild fire, one item in particular. She headed to the square where she estimated that her room had fallen from; frantically hoping she could find what she was looking for. She let her hand slide across the top of the ashes, searching for a promising bump. That's when she saw a lump a bit to her left. She reached over to it. No. It wasn't there. She then headed over to the outside border of her room where she hadn't looked before. She stuck her fingers in the black and sooty remains of her room, getting the ash under her fingernails and in between her fingers. She cupped her hands and scooped some out, making a small hole. When nothing turned up, she dug more and more until she was digging a grove around the border of her room.

She dug and she dug. Still she could not find it. Her arms ached from the constant activity, as her head ached from tiredness, for she hadn't gotten much sleep. But it didn't make any sense to stop, atleast not for her. Daria had made a pile on the side of her, where the searched remnants of the inn would lay. Trying her luck, she headed over and searched once again through the ashes. A moment later, she drew her hand back, tears threatening to come. She looked at her soot black hand; it was covered with glowing embers. She quickly rubbed it on her ragged dress. On her hands were tiny black burn marks where the embers had been. Not too bad, compared to those that had eaten Emma, but painful nonetheless. Daria ignored the pain and started looking once again. This time, rather than a handful of burning embers, which she was thankful for, she felt a cold and silky substance. Daria's eyes glowed. In her hands was Daria's treasure.

The chain was made from pure gold, as pure as a unicorn horn, as though that is where it had come from. The thin gold strands were laced together in an intricate weave, a pattern that could hardly ever be copied. Threaded into this golden weave were large pink and creamy pearls the size of peas and glistening ruby fires only slightly smaller. The threads were so fine that in your bare hands they felt as smooth as silk and as delicate as water, threatening to fall away at any moment, the only solidness you could feel were the beautiful gems, hanging loosely, as though they would roll out of your hand. And to tie it all together, at the center was a large and cleanly cut diamond, so white that it made the few patches of slush that had come in the night look gray in comparison and blindingly beautiful. It was probably more valuable than the Song Diamond. Of course, being under such conditions as the fire, it was falling apart. The threads had unraveled in more than few places, making it seem even more delicate, and some of the rubies and pearls had come off to be eaten by the fire. But the diamond was still intact, and it was still beautiful.

Now, you are probably wondering why the family just didn't sell this when they were going bankrupt, aren't you? Well I will answer your questions with a little story.

_A little five-year-old Daria eagerly knelt down on the floor of her dusty bedroom. The sun outside was slowly dimming, making the inside room harder and harder to see. After spending almost half and hour at the head of the staircase making sure that her mother wasn't coming upstairs, now was the time of revelation. She gently skimmed the outside of the floorboard under her with her tiny and short finger. Finally, her fingertip found a slight nub that dented the hard wooden floor. Prying her fingers into it and applying as much pressure as a five year old could muster (which really wasn't much at all), she pulled it upwards._

_The floorboard tilted up and up and finally completely came agape with a not a sound. Daria felt a smile grace her face. (Random A/N: that rhymes! OMG I am so cool!) Stashed inside were little candies that they always kept in stock as a complimentary gift for the younger children that visited the inn. The candies were really simple, being merely dried, cubed sugar that had varied colors and were packages each in a wrapper of dried out wax paper._

_Scooping up a handful of 3 little packages she left the rest of the stash to settle in the dark mustiness of the small space that dwindled beneath the floor and hurried off to her rustling hay-filled mattress, covering the candy with her forearm and hunching over so if anyone should come bustling inside, say her mother or father, they would not see the small bundles that brought every kid delight. _

_Ignoring the itching sensation the mattress brought to each piece of her bare skin that happened to touch it, for she had gotten used to that for a while now. Instead, her attention was drawn to the candy in her hands. Daria had a plan. She hid her tinier stash of candy under her miserable excuse for a pillow, for easy access. She tiptoed outside her door, still she saw no one. Giggling to herself for being so clever as to not being detected she was about to cross back over to her tiny bed when a voice behind her spoke out, "Is there a little Daria not in bed?" _

_She looked back and saw the sturdy frame of her father. Giggling like mad, "No!" she responded, and then she ran back to her bed, tugging her blanket over her little blue and white blouse and over her head in a pretense that she was sleeping. Daria's father was not so easily fooled. It is not so easy for a five year old to fool a grown adult. Creeping slowly up to the bed, he arched his fingers, a few veins popping out. Peeking out from under her cover, Daria squealed. She feebly tried to escape, but Nathan cut that plan off by swiftly removing the cover and wiggling his fingers by Daria's side. She let out a small shriek as Nathan tickled her. Finally, when Daria's face had gotten red, he stopped. "Now, go back to sleep, Daria." He said smiling. "Ok." Daria seldom lied if not ever, she would go back to sleep… just not __**when **__he wanted her to. Clever right?_

_When Nathan walked to his room, and Daria heard the door shut, she quickly grabbed a package of wax paper. She slowly ripped it open, trying to shush the loud rrrriiiipppp! Inside was a big blue cube, very lumpy. It was about the size of an apple, almost. It was also hard. Daria brought it to her mouth and bit off a chunk of it. A rush of sweetness welcomed her tongue as the chunk slowly melted in her mouth. Her eyes were closed as she joyfully took another bite. When she had finished her third cube, the moon was it's highest in the sky; this meant it was midnight. Her parents were definitely asleep._

_She crept outside, loving the feel of stealth. The thrill that you could get caught at any given moment. She entered into an empty suite and _ate _a sweet that she had brought along with her. She opened the curtains, wondering what outside looked like during the night time. The moon seemed to take up the entire window. Daria loved the moon, even at a young age, and she didn't know why. It was so solemn. She turned around, not caring to close the curtains, when a small glint caught her eye. _

_Lying almost innocently on the floor was the finest piece of jewelry that Daria had ever seen. Her eyes widened, how pretty! She took it up in her hands; to her untrained hands, it felt like what she imagined the main of a unicorn would feel like (unicorns had the silkiest hair in all of Kyrria). The rubies glittered even in the small moonlight, not red though. Instead it shined silver. The pearls were lustrous, but the diamond was the best. She took it back to her room, her plan to stay awake all night dismissed. _

_When she reached her small bed, she realized, it was all hers!_

_But whenever a guest left anything in a suite, her mom or dad would make her give it to them so they could decide what to do with it. They would sell this for sure. Other times, she would give it to them without a thought, but she definitely didn't want to give this treasure away. _

_She crossed the hall over to her room, all the way looking at the item in her hand. It was a miracle that she didn't bump into anything the whole way. Of course when she was a little lass, she wasn't really that clumsy. It must have been one of those things you grow into. Anyway, she trotted softly into her room. _

_She went to the middle, looking down at the floorboard. She bent down and opened it, took her hidden stash of sweets out of the dark depth and replaced it with the jewelry. After that business was taken care of, she opened the window and through all but one of the candies out of the window. Then, she tucked herself into her cover(s) and fell asleep before she had finished her sugar cube. _

The next day, when Nathan and Gina walked into Daria's room, they had caught her with a block of semi-melted, sticky sugar all over her hands. She had gotten in trouble and received a boatload of chores. The entire week she had no time to ogle all over it. And as only a five-year-old could, she forgot about it. Only until a few days ago did she re-discover it, and at that time her family was doing fine so she didn't see the need of showing her mom the gift, but partly, she didn't want to see such a gorgeous thing go away.

Now she wished that she had shown it to her family, she wanted to share its beauty. It was the only beauty in her life right now. She wrapped it with her hands, closing her eyes and envisioning herself with life as it was before. Her room was hot and stuffy, the open window failed to make a difference. Downstairs, the usual chatter drifted upstairs instead of the ever hoped for breeze of wind. Next to her, she could hear Emma talking fast and rapidly. It was easy to tell that Emma had eaten too much sugar, for she got hyper **very **easily.

Suddenly above her, she heard a loud piercing shriek which brought her back to reality. Quickly jerking her head above her, she saw a few of the magenta feathers from the silhouette above her drift down to her. It was a phoenix! The dark phoenix flew off, visible in the creamy blue sky. The feathers were dark and serene as they floated. She lifted her slight fingers so she could skim them over the feathers her eyes glowing, entranced by the startling silence; she could see only the feather looming closer and closer getting bigger and bigger as it drifted on an unseen wind to her. Ouch! The outside world had returned. The feather immediately puffed into a cloud of ash when she touched it, burning her hand. Daria sighed, wishing to go back to her pleasant, and short daydream, but it was impossible.

It was for more than a few reasons, actually. Of course, the first was: you could never return to a time when you were really happy. And though Daria tried, those times, she knew, would never return to her. The other reason had an outside force reacting rather than that of an inside force. She remembered the times, when guests had dwindled, and Gina, Daria, and the twins had nothing to do while Nathan tried to get money. In fact, the only way they could cope with feeding themselves and the few guests that came every month was by charity money from other families. While they had naught to do, Gina had decided to school the kids, for though they were some-what educated, they lacked that they needed for when they were older.

Daria immediately hit off with being educated, for her complex mind picked up a lot of things. When Daria found she rather enjoyed this new found knowledge, she used all her spare time (which she had a lot of those days) to read more and more books. She especially favored the mythical books of creatures in Frell. She recalled that the phoenix was an omen, one of death… a death by fire. When the fire destroyed everything, until no more fuel was left and there was only remains, it came by and flew to the ashes, feeding on it to extend its lifespan. It _was _only a mythical book, but nevertheless she felt a pain. A phoenix only came when total destruction occurred. For total destruction to occur, Daniel and Gina **had **to be dead. Right? No!

She clenched her teeth; she would not believe it, ever. Anyways, for "total destruction", she would have to be dead too! But she easily went back to sauntering, still making sure that she had a guarded expression on her face despite the deficiency of life, she was counted as "destructed" because without her family, she realized, she was nothing, worthless. She turned her back to the inn, facing where she laid Emma, her hair scratching the inside of her ear, not looking back. With the state of helplessness the land was in, it would be too painful. No, instead she headed over to Emma, her feet feeling the ash as though it was sand on the beach, for it definitely felt like that. Daria picked her up and headed forward, the necklace put deep into a pocket that was sown onto the inside of her frock, right near the neckline, not meant to be a pocket, but serving it purpose to be hidden, unseen.

_Where would I go? I have nowhere. And what would come of Emma? I cant just take a dead body around with me. Could I?_

Daria headed out to the east; she could tell by the rise of the sun.

At Frell, she would try for a job, she was good at labor, and there was a lot of that needed in a busy city such as Frell was. When she had gotten enough money to support herself maybe she could by herself a cottage. It wouldn't take too long, for the ones at the little villa she lived at cost a miniscule amount, and she doubted Frell could be too much different. The inn was set out to the west of the city, off a busy road where many travelers came weary and eager for a place to stop. A few days of traveling through the woods and hiking up Yauriy hill, named for the famous Ayorthian explorer that was buried there. Perhaps before she had to make the painful hike up the hill, her knee would recover. After that, she would travel for a couple more days along the famous Lucarno river, known for it's white waters, rich with minerals and nitrogen. This would lead her to Frell. How did she know this? When she had free time to search for books, she would occasionally come upon a few maps. So the 'where?' dilemma was solved, but what about the 'how?' The journey would take a week, longer if she was going to carry Emma the way there. And she had no food. She would starve. The river Lucarno would give her a fresh supply of water, healthy too, for sure, but there were no food sources on the way. And she could not work too hard for the burden of her knee.

Of course, if she stayed here, she would starve all the same, only she would do it without even trying. This made up her mind, she would start tomorrow, but today, she had to make sure she was prepared. Daria headed back to the woods she had walked in earlier that day. It was now mid-afternoon, or noon itself. The sun seemed the opposite of what was Daria's mood, with it shining in all it's glory in the sky. Daria swore that it was just there to show-off, _my life's better than yours! _It was hard to tell. But walking into the forest, the trees blocked out the sun's light that glared even more intensely and it was even harder. It was completely dark and even Daria's eyes were no longer illuminated and the only light that could be seen was the random patch of sunlight that somehow found a way to filter through the dense and leafy canopy. She automatically walked through the path she so often did, using a disfigured tree or a stone that looked different from the rest. Finally, she found the clearing that she had come upon the day before.

When Daria walked into the clearing, she was hit by a sudden burst of sunlight. She blinked repetitively so as to grow accustomed to the sudden change of lighting. After a few minutes of blinking and blindly staggering around, her eyes finally adjusted. The clearing was just as she had left it, only more beautiful, for last time she had failed to appreciate its beauty. Now it hit her with full force. It _was _indeed gorgeous.

At the center of the clearing was a flat stone. Perfect for sitting. She was tempted to snort, _how cliché! _But that action would not be appropriate for this situation, especially with a dead Emma in her arms. So instead she thanked her frequently "missing" luck, and placed Emma on the warm rock, the light gray surface reflecting so much sun, she had to squint as she approached it. The stone was covered with yet more butterflies and she was forced to put Emma down to wave them off; she didn't want them to be crushed. (A/N: but I do!) She left Emma there, but took the jewels with her. Emma was more important, obviously, but Daria just couldn't leave the precious necklace behind. So she took it with her, still having nothing to hold it with except for the small little pouch on the inside of her frock, but it wasn't that well of a pouch with two holes at either end of the wool stitched on to add another layer to the thin outside dress.

She headed back to the small villa. The people in the villa were mostly travelers, who stopped and decided to settle. This is why it varied greatly in cultures. The first people to live here were in fact Daria's parents and old Farmer McGraw. The houses were swamped and messily built with no particular order. By the time she had gotten back, it was nightfall. She had rummaged the forest for any food of any kind.

Daria crouched behind a cottage. She had been waiting behind there for an eternity. She sat down and brought one of her feet to her face. Mud and dirt were heavily packed on. Just a little more and it would have looked like she was wearing the sole of a shoe, stuck to the bottom of her foot. She tore off the dried mud, revealing her feet below. One of them started to tickle. She looked and saw a silver bug, crawling across her feet. She took it and flicked it off, the direction of the window. As the bug made it to the window, the light turned off. One of the last of the lights of the cottage. That was enough for Daria. One by one, most of the other remaining lights also turned of, making it darker and darker until only light from the small sliver of the moon was visible. She crept toward the front of the house. Right before she made it inside the view of the door, it opened. Out came an "obese" man. He was gruff with a little stubble and a thick mustache. He was sweating like a pig. Actually, pigs can't sweat, so he was sweating like a really **really **sweaty human. Daria pressed herself against the wall of the cottage, trying to withstand the prickly leaves that stuck out from the hedge beside her. Thankfully, as quickly as he came out he went back in.

Daria dared to let out a sigh of relief. She crept out in front of the door, to reach the other side of the cottage, when once again, the door _creeaaaked _open. Daria's eyes widened, as she stared up at the intimidating personage of the sweaty man. He stared at her with disgust for a little less then a minute, and then he barked, "Go away! You lousy piece of filth." Daria couldn't let out a sound for her fear seemed to seal her mouth shut. She scampered away. Away meaning the back of the cottage, once again.

The kitchen was in the back of the cottage. Daria could tell when the window was open. The light streamed out and she smelled food, food that made her mouth water, that reminded her that it had been two days for her _without_ food. Oh so wonderful food. She once again saw those bulky, hairy arms reaching out with a wooden platter. With a swift motion, he upturned the platter and on the ground splattered an abundantly big amount of scraps, left for the animals: half eaten apples, a lot of fresh veggies neglected by the children, and a big chunk of brown rice. They splayed out, a few of them rotten. Daria started to drool. Not in the sense that saliva dripped out of the sides of her mouth, she was just really hungry. She swept her arms across the dead grass, wilted from the sunlight, or lack thereof. Given she collected some dirt along with the leftover food, but this food was what she needed to stay alive. She scooped it up in the skirt of her dress, or what was left of her dress.

Hurrying back, she happened upon a dusty dirt road. She decided to walk this path, for the road was heavily padded with dust and underneath, a bunch of grass. The vibration didn't reach her knee hard and it was much easier to walk. The night sky was clear, not overcast as it had been the last few days, and it was a wonderful sight. The stars were as many as grains of rice in her skirt, only millions more. It was beautiful, and the air was just as refreshing. This was one of the few pleasant moments she had had since the death of Emma, where she was at peace. She spent about five minutes strolling down the road when she reached the close end. As she reached the end of the road, she saw a dark brown square-ish piece of burlap, just lying on the road. It was small, to be sure, but definitely noticeable. Daria trudged to the spot and bent down on her healthy knee, tucking her other one under her arm. She winced when she glanced at the dried blood cracking open. It was rather hideous, the sight of it. After getting used to the sight of the gruesome infection on her knee, Daria picked up the square of burlap. Or she tried to. When she picked up the mud splattered square, it extended out of a small gap. There was more she soon realized. She was bright, but sometimes she could be a bit slow. Daria tugged it out with her clutched hands. The dirt that buried it crumbled out of the hole, sure to give a hearty bump to any coach passing this way. The bag, it was a moderate sized burlap bag, probably one that had fallen out of a travelers wagon long ago, or long enough for it to be covered in mud and grass.

Daria eyes widened in confusion when she felt something slithery in clutched in her hands were a rough patch of burlap was instead supposed to be. She jerked her head down, and clutched in her hand was a thin and long rope, silver. It was a strange rope, instead of the crossed pattern there was supposed to be, there was instead a looped one, like that of fish scales. There was a disturbance to the color someway along the body of the rope. There was an oval of purple. Looking closer she realized that they weren't part of the rope. They were thin and lacy, looking to be made of tissue paper. Suddenly the fluttered in the wind, except, there was no wind. They were wings! _Wait, ropes don't have wings! _She looked at the end of the alleged "rope". Staring back at her were hard and cold black eyes. And a tongue, slithering in and out, in and out.

She shrieked and jerked her hand closer to her, trying to lose the snake. The snake, startled by the movement sunk its teeth deep into her compromising flesh, looking for a hold. Then it let go and slithered away. Daria's head was throbbing. A person could only take so much pain. Daria pressed her hand, trying to lessen the pain. Tears formed at her eyes. She brought her hand to her mouth, but as she tilted her bloodshot eyes down to look at it, she realized something was wrong. The blood was not the crimson she was used to. It was silver, terrifyingly silver. It was also thick and more solid. What was wrong with her? She stood up, wanting to run away, but at the way she thrust herself up, pressure was put mostly on both knees, her right, the hurt one, more so for she was more familiar with it. She sank back, more in pain than when she had gotten up and carelessly forgotten about her knee. She caressed her knee with her silver-bloodstained fingers. The blood, for a moment, just rested on the knee, but the open wound sucked it in, mixing with her _crimson _blood. Inside her leg, she felt a fire, starting from her knee, and slowly spreading out, growing as would a simple dandelion. Her eyes squeezed shut, the pain unbearable as the snake's venom acted in her already infected bloodstream.

Once again, she was faced with more pain than she had ever imagined possible.

**Hey. Usually I work on my story an hour or two, whenever I remember, until I have to go to sleep. (I have a freakishly early bedtime). But after that I **_**never **_**remember. Unless I get a review. Then, then being whenever I get a review, I immediately get back to my story, so if you want me to update quick, **_**review. **_**Also, the first person to review and tell me what the recurring theme at the end of the chapters, not including the prologue, gets their penname mentioned in the next chapter! Unless no one gets it right when the next chapter comes out. So if you want to be mentioned by the awesomely awesome……….me! Then review!**


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**A/N: OMG! So so so so so so soooooo sorry that I took so long. I just didn't know where I was going with this chapter. But I am pretty sure about the next one. I've been planning it since March! Anyway, it's summer, and I have nothing to do this week except type, so hopefully the next chapter will be loads longer. Also, on a happier note, Have A Great Father's Day! And show Dad how much you care! Ask Mom to take you guys out to dinner…Then your Dad will be happy with you aaaaand you get dinner at a restaurant! **

**Bored2hyperness: thank you. I really didn't think the last chapter was any good. Here's the next chapter for you! ******

**Sparkled with love: actually he comes in somewhere in the next chapter, or the one after that, but not really **_**that **_**much of an important role, but it is important later on in the story.**

**Whatever95: yup, that's right, I really didn't think it was that hard. So your penname should come up in the next chapter somewhere. Truth is, the first two chapters that happened, it was by total accident. It wasn't until someone pointed it out that I decided to make the rest of the chapters with that so it would look like I did it on purpose. I think I will stop at chapter five though.**

_**Disclaimer: mine it's all mine!! (a few days later an angry Gail Carson Levine and a highly paid lawyer walk up with very complicated papers and sue for a lot of money so I go in my trust time machine back to where I type these lies)**_

_**NO SHE'S NOT TELLING THE TRUTH! I mean I'm not telling the truth. I admit it! It's not mine!!**_

**Chapter 4**

Her head throbbed; she was bent over in the pain, trying to keep up with what was happening. Her breath rushed out of her lungs. What was wrong with her? Daria looked at her knee through her squinted eyes, but failed due to the blurry shield of tears that were steadily leaking out. Her lip was already bleeding from biting on it, but the pain did not disappear. Daria shut her eyes closed, forcing the moisture out, and down her dirty cheeks. She brought one of her hands from the dusty path up to her eyes to wipe away her tears. And though her eyes stung from the dust and grit, she could see clearer. What she saw, however, wasn't clear…..

Daria's knee was propped up against her chest, her arms bringing it close to her, for any further and she feared the pain would bring it to disembodiment. She squeezed it towards her, starting to black out as a black fog clouded her vision. Her hand, rested on the Wounded Knee was supposedly touching smooth and _still_ skin, or so she felt from her fingertips no disturbance, but this counteracted with what she was seeing. Instead of the normally smooth, pale skin, there were ripples, like when you drop a small stone into a lake. Her skin was actually dancing across her knee in tiny ripples. They were the dark violet color that had been her gash, but the actual _gash _couldn't be seen. All the same, it was rather frightening. It just wasn't natural. Daria's head felt dizzy as she tried to comprehend what was happening to her. What would happen to her _this_ time?

The ripples headed outward but always stopped when the reached the end of the knee blade. Each ripple turned a shade closer to her original skin color, and away from the color of the wound. Daria only looked at it for a few seconds after being forced to look away. She couldn't bear to look at something so…._gruesome_ for too long, especially if it was happening to _her. _Eventually, she shut her eyes and tilted her head back, not wanting to look at it with even closed eyes. _When I open my eyes, it'll be gone! It'll all be gone! _Suddenly, pain in her knee came to a close, though she could still feel it's echo, and that is when Daria found enough guts to open her eyes and look at it once more. She was greeted with her once again _still_, smooth, perfect skin. She looked at her scrawny knee, had she imagined it all along? _Wait a minute! Perfect?_

She looked once again at her knee. It was true; the wound was gone! _Amazing_! She brought her head closer to it, inspecting. It looked as it did before the shovel had hit it except for a scar, stretching from one end of her knee to the other. She frowned, that wasn't wanted, but as long as it was healed. Her hands traveled to her knee. She pressed her fingers around, trying not to be careful as she tested her newly 'mended' knee. It didn't respond with the usual pain she was recently accustomed with. She pressed her hands against the ground, lifting herself up, but she put most of the pressure on her left leg. Shifting the position of her hips, she transferred this pressure to her right knee. She felt a slight pang, but she found she could walk again, if she felt she could bear the small amount of discomfort. And she could.

She walked more confidently down the dusty road, now that her knee was well once again. Her head felt as though it was in a haze. One she could not explain. She passed lime green hills, bringing out a rumble in her stomach as she though about food. She moaned as she though about the food she had left behind. Maybe it would have been a better idea if she had brought it along first. But she was already too far away. It would be pointless to go back to get it. And anyway, she could get it while coming back.

Into the forest Daria walked, shouldering her way past a few trees, ducking under some hanging branches, and occasionally tripping over some rocks. The pine straw and leaf litter underneath pricked her feet and bugs flew into her face until she wondered whether she remembered where she was going, but when she spotted the border of intertwined trees, she smiled. She put her foot on a cross of where two trees' trunks passed each other and heaved herself up, pushing until she reached inside the barrier. Finally she got inside the clearing, where lay Emma, still. Her face solemn, lacked the shine the optimistic seven year old often had. Her arms were hanging off the stone, helpless and worst of all, her skin was pale, terribly pale, obviously _deathly_ pale. A sight which waved away her hunger. A sight she was better off not seeing.

The moon hung, just under the horizon, as the sun came up, not wanting to wait for the moon to go back to its nocturnal slumber. The sky lit up with rosy hues, the vibrant pink of petunias, and the bleached purple of fresh spring grapes. The trees stood out with their wise and tall manor, while the (A/N: evil) multicolored butterflies made flowers in the trees as they rested. Daria grimaced as she saw the sleeping form of Emma on the rock she placed her on. It wasn't Emma. Not in her mind. She walked over, her feet crunching up the dried grass, as she made her way across to her forever sleeping sister.

Emma was lying down on the stone, not a sound coming from her. Not even the smaller whisper of breath that escaped while sleeping. Daria's eyes got blurry once again. But she forced her eyes to stay dry, locking the tears away as she did her emotions. She was took Emma into her hands. She left the clearing, for the last time, finally appreciating its beauty, now that she would never come back. But it went without saying that a lot of beautiful things seemed to pass her by.

She turned her back and went back to the road she had previously left. She came back to the spot she had left the burlap haversack and the bundle of recycled food she had scavenged. They were dusted with heaps of light brown dirt, but otherwise the same as when Daria had found them. Putting Emma gently on the road, she once again collected everything and put it inside the burlap bag. Once she was done carefully tucking everything she had dropped inside the bag, she reached inside her shirt, to the pocket where she had left her necklace. Half of it was spilling out the hole at the bottom corner. Quickly gathering it up to make sure no more spilled, she put it at a pocket at the outside of the haversack. Looking back, Daria saw that a few of the pearls had been left as she walked the way there, falling out of the hole in her neckline pocket.

Once all was in its place or so deemed by Daria, she hooked her pack on her back, picked up Emma, and walked away, to the woods, the beginning of her journey. One which changed her life.

/

She trundled along the road throughout the night, under the shade of the trees, not veering away from her path. As her feet dragged along the bumpy rocks that were set in the border of the path, some smooth, but more sharp. Her feet started to throb and smear with droplets of blood pricked out from the pebbles. It was high in the morning; Daria heard a rumbling sound behind her. Turning around, she saw a six horsed coach come down her way. Panicking, she ran off the road and behind the leafy trees beyond as she waited for it to pass her, without sight of her. It never did. The coach drew to a stop right beside her. Inside was a man, only a few year her elder, she realized.

"Are you alright, miss?" he huffed, haughtily. Unfortunately sighting her bag

Daria quirked her eyebrow at his tone, but quickly changed her expression back to a respectful one as she peeked her head, then the rest of her body out from behind the trees. This man was obviously stronger than her, and she wanted no feuds.

"Quite fine, sir." She answered diverting her eyes. _I wish he would just leave now!_

"Alright then…Travis! Hurry on!" after looking her over.

"Wait!" Daria, exclaimed. _Wait, did I say that?_

Seeing as the man stopped his coach, and looked at her questioningly, she realized she did. She spoke further so as not to confuse him. All the while thinking: _Why__ did I just say that!_

"Do you think that you could spare a spot in your carriage for a young maiden?" She said, in her most sickly sweet voice, putting on a charming smile for an added measure.

_What am I thinking? _She groaned to herself. _Covered in mud I am. And filthy rags. _It was often her sudden impulses got her into trouble.

The man gave her a strange look, openly surveying her top to bottom again before responding:

"Well come on then. I haven't all day." still as pompously. Probably expecting her to know his decision without him needing to speak a word.

"Thank you!" Daria struggled to snuff out the sarcastic tone that was just dripping off of her otherwise kindly words.

Daria moved to get into the carriage, already lifting her bare foot, but before she could, the man had one more thing to say.

"But, put _that _back there," he said disgustedly, referring to Emma and the back of the coach. Daria knew better than to argue, and she did as she was bidden, stopping to give him an un-noticed glare. She gently rolled Emma out of her hands and into the hanging compartment in the back of the seats. Tucking back a golden strand behind her ear, Daria left Emma tucked behind a few trunks, so she would risk falling. She returned to the seats where the snobby man sat, scooting as far away from him as physically possible.

Travis struck his whip at the horses, a signal to start, and the carriage started bumping up and down in the rocky street. She averted her eyes to the seat across from her, looking at the man. On top his head was a scruff of perfectly groomed blonde hair. He had blank, blue eyes, which rarely blinked. His nose was a bit larger than normal and his mouth too small. His cleft chin made him look unruly and his 'rich-boy' clothes, shrouded with frills, made him look ridiculous. She _was_ quick to judge, she grudgingly realized. In every person, she saw only flaws, or mostly them. But she did not think that this man deserved any credit. He studied Daria openly and she found herself squirming under his leering gaze. Finally, a few minutes into the trip, after he got his fill of staring at her, he spoke.

"What's your name?"

"Da….Daphne," said Daria after hesitating, not feeling it right to give this stranger her actual name.

"Ah" he said, waiting for Daria to ask his name in return.

She didn't.

"Mine is John." He said, feeling as if she needed to know, for he was indeed important.

Still she said nothing, rendering him speechless. This was the first maiden that hadn't swooned at sight of his handsome self (arrogant more like it) or bowed down to his riches. He sat gaping at her, before realizing what he was doing and going back to what he assumed was a regal manor. _I don't give a crap what your name is, dolt, _thought she. But the amazingly thick man didn't take the hint and kept going after his momentary lapse of shock.

"Where are you headed?" he said again. "I am going to Bast."

_….Bast. The river Lucarno is that way!_

"Could you drop me off by Lucarno?" She said, for the first time making eye-contact. In her youth, her mother had told her many stories about the beauties of Lucarno, one of the only untouched nature resources in Frell. Of course it was a popular tourist attraction, the sheer mass of it being enough, but human kind had sense enough to leave it alone.

"Lucarno? Would you rather me drop you off by your final destination (sounding like a car gps much)? Perhaps I could visit you if I have the chance." If he hadn't before, he certainly said the wrong thing now.

_I think not! _"By the River Lucarno please." She repeated, now really ticked off at his behavior.

"Alright." He said. But not without a incredulous glance in Daria's direction. Young maidens off on their own in the wild? Oh the absurdity! (Sexist I know, but it _was _in the medieval time)

And off the carriage tumbled, headed to the setting sun, inside sitting two disgruntled people, for the same cause but two different reasons.

/

Lucarno came into sighting. Daria moved her head from inside the dull interior of the carriage out the window. A sudden breeze hit her face. She closed her eyes, relishing the feeling. Gradually, her blue eyes opened, widening as the took in the sight of the famous Lucarno river. The water was startlingly white, not even a tint of color in its limpid surface. It stretched across the hilly land for miles left and right. The distance across itself was the size of two foot ball fields (length wise). All in all, it was a big river. Hanging across the crystalline river were big, leafy trees, leaves the shape of a cloud (you know, the puffy ones little kids draw) ranging the color of their leaves from the light tint of mint green to the deep hue of emeralds. Daria gasped when a splash from one of the many fish in the river caressed her face as the carriage sped past.

She suddenly came to her senses. The river was slowly decreasing in sight as the coach that carried them veered, to the direction of Bast.

"Stop!"

John started at the sudden command but did nothing, unlike the trained horses which _did_ stop when commanded to stop.

"This is where I take my leave," said Daria hurriedly, trying to get out before John recovered from the shock and commanded the carriage to start once more, also not wanting a minute more with this gruesome man.

"Are you sure you don't want me to accompany you or—"

"Quite," said Daria cutting in. _What_ _was_ _wrong_ _with_ _him? Did he really think that he would get away with that?_

She went to the back, picked up Emma and cantered away as fast as she could. Taking a one-second glance back, she felt a bit wary when she saw a strange look in the leering gaze the man gave her. Feeling uncomfortable, she walked a bit faster away from the coach, closer to the pristine Lucarno river.

She walked on the bumpy hills, covering the distance the carriage managed to go before she realized it, and it did manage to go a _very _far way. She could barely see the outline of the trees and river. Emma in her hands slowly grew heavier, as did her feet, and her eye lids. She dragged herself across the muddy ground, forcing her to take one more step, and then just one more, and one more, and one more. With the sun beating down on her back she warily took another step. Her head felt dizzy, begging for a small rest and her eyes started to see a black haze clouding her peripheral vision. All she could see was the river in front of her. And at last when she reached the river, she collapsed; she was thoroughly exhausted, dehydrated.

Daria had never held up well in the heat. Somehow, it happened to affect her more than any other. It was un-explainable why, and at the times it did effect her, it was a big pain. It was first realized of this ailment when Daria was seven—as old as Emma is…_was. _After that, she was always taking precautions around the sun, and other heat. And when a hot day did arise with no alternative then to go outside, she assured herself that she had a canteen of water on her. Today, however was different.

She fell beside the river, a shudder passed through her stomach. Her throat convulsed and before she knew it, she was regurgitating orange liquid, stomach acid, her head feeling now only worse. Her throat again started, this time nothing coming out, fortunately. Hurriedly, she scooped some of the white water of the Lucarno, feeling the cold water run down her throat. Immediately her head cleared up. She gulped more, each giving more relief. At last, she laid sprawled on the muddy ground, gasping for breath. Daria turned on her side, under the shade of a strange bunch of banana trees painstakingly exhausted from the sun. And so she slept, covered in more dust until the night.

/

Lucarno at night was beautiful. The colorful fish from the tropics often swam in from the ocean into the river Lucarno, their multitude of rainbow colors turning into darker, mystic hues in the shadows created by the trees. The fish were indeed tropical, but they preferred Lucarno, finding its deep and clean waters a much better environment as opposed to the polluted, fitful waters of the ocean. At the very bottom of the lake, which was deep down though it did not look it, the shadows making it look even stranger, there were amazingly white sands turned opposite in color, keeping up with the transparent image of the lake in the day, and the gothic scene at night. Scattered here and there were scraggly green weeds, trying to survive in the sandy ground. Every where, large dragonflies buzzed here and there and there were no (A/N: evil) butterflies anywhere. Plump little fireflies also made present, putting light at unlikely places. And when squinting closely, by the light of the waning moon, tiny green snowflakes of plankton drifting at the top of the river could be seen. Above head, the bright green and red feathers of the exotic parrots swung across the canopy. The parrots themselves departed for slumber. And with the moon shining so brightly over-head, the entire river glowed an unnatural white, mystifying the sight even more with dark fire lilies opening their petals only to this ethereal glow. Gina had said while reciting her fantastic tales: _Lucarno only rises, when the sun goes down._

Daria gasped; it was all so amazing. She held her finger out, breaking the surface of the water and the haze of light that seemed to rise from it. She brought up her finger, it was not wet, but it was tingling from cold impact. Was Lucarno really as magical as everyone said?

Interrupting her thoughts was a foul odor near her. She sniffed the air uncertainly. That was strange… it was coming from her left, awfully close. She swiveled around, facing Emma. Nothing out of place here. Emma was just laid down, her eyes closed, of course, and her mouth slightly open, now that she had no control of the muscles it took to keep it open. Daria was just about to turn back around, when she caught sight of a small cockroach climb out of Emma's mouth. It _was _small, but at first sight of the miniscule bug, Daria unsuccessfully tried to stifle a tiny scream. Creeping closer, and eyes aware, she noticed something that had eluded her: Emma. With closer inspection, she realized Emma was…_rotting. _Her eyelids had sunken in where her eyeballs were supposed to be, her skin was thin, wrinkled, and dead in some places, and she did appear to have an infestation of cockroaches, though Daria later suspected this was because there was an abundance of these creatures at river Lucarno.

This gave her a horrifying decision that she had no choice but to choose. She would be forced to leave Emma, for good. To be true, losing Emma was harder, but now losing all connection to her, that struck her down, hard. Daria didn't know what she thought. _Emma would last forever? Her body would defy the laws of nature? _It was foolish, but that was indeed what she had thought. Just in a vague sense, without giving much thought about it.

Daria looked out at the enchanted river. Emma had always wished to go here, but work at the inn had held them both back. And it was so magical… Daria looked back at Emma. Then, she took the body into her hands, and lay on her knees by the river. Slowly, she lowered her arms into the water, floating Emma's body with it. Immediately her arms felt numb with cold and she was tempted to draw them back out from the shockingly cold water. She let Emma drift on the river as she quickly took away her arms. They were not wet. Suddenly the air in front of her warmed, and Daria's eyes widened in shock as the silver river reflected against the blue of her eyes turned gold. In front of her, the silver water surrounding Emma turned into a brilliant liquid gold, spreading down the length of Lucarno, until the whole river, or as much as Daria could see, turned into the sacred color. Suddenly waves lapped against the bank on which she lay. Startled she leapt back. Since when did Lucarno have waves? She watched in fear as the golden water swirled faster and faster around, dragging Emma under. Then suddenly, with a blinding light, it all returned to normal.

Daria got off the ground blinking profusely. Had she imagined it all? She certainly would have thought so if Emma had still been there. But she was not. So that was it, Emma was gone, forever. Daria looked solemnly at the river tears starting to well up in her eyes, her grief overpowering her sense of awe and confusion. This time, she did not try to hold them back; she let them trail down her cheeks and fall down to the grass below her, the tears a record, small as they were, of what had occurred there, mingling with the scattered dewdrops that managed to escape through the leafy cover above. Letting her head lay softly down on the grass underneath her, she fell into a trouble sleep- often tossing and turning as the sun rose, and Lucarno turned back normal.

/

A beauteous carriage trundled off the well paved road. On its violet surface were intricate carving of stunning fairies and blood-thirsty ogres, telling a tale long forgotten. At the front stood four majestic horses, with well groomed manes and taut muscles just waiting for a moment of liberty, to gallop as fast as the wind, an answer to the restlessness that pestered them everyday, but that was what came with the tame, pampered life of yielding to a rich, well-known family. Animal abuse would certainly ruin their perfect image that they worked so hard to build up. At command of these creatures was a big-bellied horseman, with mussed ginger hair, bushy eyebrows, and a large mustache. Inside this epitome of richness, sat a blonde-haired man, looking out of the open door with a queer gaze. Through the tangle of evergreen, banyan, pine, and oak was a small huddle of a girl that caught his attention. Up in the front, the driver shifted in his seat, looking back, to talk to the blonde man.

"Sir John? When are we to go to Bast?"

John poked his head out of the door and faced the driver.

"My mother and father can wait. I have something else to do." And he went back to staring at Daria's sleeping figure. A thousand possibilities erupting in his head, and his steady frown turning into a dangerous smirk, he was planning a meeting with Daria once again.

**A/N: creepy huh? Well what's a good story without a freaky stalker dude? Did I just type what I think I typed? Anyway, if you think there is **_**anything**_** that I need to change or that you don't like, from the story, to how I used **_**that **_**instead of **_**those **_**in one chapter, to even my penname, please tell me. I want to fix it all.**


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: You all know I'm not Gail, so why even ask?_

**A/N: I. Am. So. So. So. So. Sorry!! But trust me, by no means am I abandoning this story. I really didn't expect it to take this long to update! And for such a **_**short **_**chapter, look I'm really sorry. Which is why I have a surprise at the end of this chapter. Oh yeah guys, LOOK AT THE AUTHOR NOTE AT THE END. IMPORTANT. **

**Francofille: **Thank you for the kind review. Silver and gold always remind me of royalty, but I myself am a fan of silver. I though I made it clear that the creepy dude at the end was John, but maybe I didn't. I should fix that. Thank you and please review again.

**Whatever95: **Hey! You should see your name in here somewhere. And about john being like Char, I'd just like to say that the book Char is the exact opposite of Movie Char. Book Char is nice, and kind, and a gentleman. I Just didn't like the movie much. I mean, they didn't even keep the name of his father right! It's Jerrold! Not Florien or something. Thank you and review again!

**Bored2hyperness: **Everything you said about John is true. Totally true. Thank you for reviewing, do it again soon! 

**Narniagirl17: **New reader? Then check out my faves! They are my favorites, so they must be good.

**Egypt-girl-9: **Thank you for the really nice review. And John doesn't know her name. I meant as a reference to 'looking at Daria' because if I said he was looking at Daphne, you all would get confused. Sorry if I _did _confuse you.

Life is a peculiar thing. We see it every day, yet we can not explain its existence. In life's peak, you see what its worth, and while it crashes so do you; everyone close to you is affected as well. But each rise and fall, though it seems undecided, is caused only by our choices, these choices lead only to paths, No map is available, and those who try to create such a map only succeed in giving you a path that is not yours. Each route twists away, reaching new crossroads each step there, and eventually leading to even more choices. Farther and farther you go, making choices without a conscious state of mind, until you have reached somewhere so far from where you started, you have no way of going back. And who try tread on new un-walked places, those of which lead them away into a place of confusion, and isolation. And the hardest thing about each choice is the path you choose to head toward is one you can not see, each path is hidden.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

A swinging branch veered in the direction of the wind, floating on the sudden breeze. Below, the dark shadows shifted onto a new patch of grass leaving the bright rays of the sun to fall onto a different target. Squinting her eyes, Daria grudgingly got up, knowing that trying to fall back to sleep would yield no success. She dragged her feet closer towards her, her head feeling dizzy. Opening her mouth into a wide yawn, she gathered herself up, taking her rucksack and started to walk along side the river.

The shade of the trees, with a river right beside her, it wouldn't be too long. And slowly, the sun went down from its high position in the sky, and the faint outline of the city grew much larger. And soon after she woke up she found her self getting closer than she imagined was possible in the short time of three days. And, though she did not like it, she grudgingly admitted to herself that accepting that gruesome carriage ride was the smartest move she had made, so far.

As the sun rose even higher, she felt her stomach rumbling with hunger. Suddenly, she heard a squawk next to her. She tumbled back as a large crane flew over the river and scooped on of the fish into its elongated beak. Watching if fly away, she found an idea popping into her head. Finding a stick on the ground next to her, (a particularly pointy, one) she sat next to the river, not caring about the mud that clung onto her dress. Holding the stick tightly into her hand, she carefully watched each fish swim by. With a great swing, she plunged the stick into the rushing river. No luck. Daria tried once more. Again, she found no such luck. _Use your head Daria!_ She looked carefully over to her rucksack, of which was showing some cheese. _Perfect! _Taking that bit of cheese, Daria stuck it to the end of her stick. Then she stuck her stick into the water. Still Nothing happened. _Oh well. _Suddenly the end of the stick gave a big tug. Surprised, Daria heaved it out. And there was a fish at the end of it. Her eyes widened with happiness. Grabbing the wiggling fish off of the cheese, she started a fire, and cooked like she was taught to do back at the inn.

After the hearty meal, she kept walking, taking in the scenery and enjoying every part of it. As she ran her fingers over the smooth bark of a pine tree, picking a few branches off of it, she looked in front of her to see the city. She suddenly stopped, as her mouth fell open. She hadn't imagined it to be this close! Not much longer and she would be in the city Frell!

And indeed, in five minutes she neared the city. It was much grander than she had thought it would be. Walking around, in between scrambling pedestrians, Daria saw just how different Frell was from her little village so far way. The houses here were at least four times bigger than the tiny ones back home. And they were not made of mud and hay, rather they were finally constructed out of stone and wood. And rolling down the middle of the street were the finest carriages she had ever seen. Well, besides of the gentleman that had given her a ride, John was it? She glanced beside her, lining the street, going down as far as she could see were a bunch of little shops everywhere, each trying to outdo the other in an array of finely placed streamers and signs. One pastry shop had the most delicious looking treat. The inn had never had such delicacies. Walking along the gravelly road, she tried to look at each and every shop, and the people walking beside it. They were apparently terribly richer than she was at that moment. She glanced upon a shop; a peddler's to be specific, which had a crudely made banner and a cluster of multi-colored balloons. The sign said "Happy Birthday Megan". Outside the shop, she saw two boys guffawing loudly about something. One was tall, very skinny, had black hair, but a rather large nose. His cheeks were very puffy, and his eyes beady, and he fidgeted a lot to. Next to him was a boy just as skinny. His nose was as big, but on his head was a mop of brown hair. His cheeks were too wide, and he walked with a strange limp, seemingly for no reason.

"Hey Eric," said the brown hair lad with an extremely snobby, nasal voice, looking the banner. "You know she likes you!"

"What are you talking about?" asked Eric.

"Megan. She likes you!" said the brown haired guy.

"Jake, you're crazy," said he with a very small smile on his face.

"Oh come on. It's so obvious."

"Yeah, right…you know what? **Whatever.** I don't care."

So Jake and Eric cantered inside the bakery, still arguing about the matter at hand.

Suddenly behind her, Daria felt a long and spidery hand grasp her shoulder. Jumping away, she screamed in shock before she looked closer at who had grabbed her.

_FarmerMcGraw?_

It might as well have been. The old man looked exactly like Farmer McGraw at home, with the exception of his thick, dark gray hair. But he sure looked as crazy.

"I'm **95**!" he yelled.

Daria backed away, "um… okay".

As she quickly headed the opposite direction, she heard him yell, "Happy Birthday Meggie Laverne Susan B. Anthony the Fredrick 15.3!"

Once she had gotten far enough away from Farmer McGraw's "twin", she stopped and once again looked around at the shops, searching for a 'help wanted' sign that would make her day. She looked and looked well into the night, yet she wasn't aware of any, but eventually, she was bound to find one. Right?

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Two weeks later, Daria cursed her adolescent optimism. Jobs here were harder to find than a grain of rice buried in the sand of a 50 mile beach. Early in the week, Daria finished all her food, and had to sell a pearl of her necklace just to stave off of starvation. Soon after that, she dared not sell another one. So now, Daria was on the streets, begging passerby for a small charitable gratification, but none she got.

She walked by the wicker baskets which held various fruit and vegetables. She had become slight friends with the vendor and she usually got one apple a day. She jumped as she felt a hand rest on her shoulder. When she looked back, she smiled. It was Jeremy, the vendor. He smiled toothily at her.

"Daria! I was wondering when I'd see you."

"Jeremy! Yes I was just stopping by…because…"

"Yes. Yes. I know the deal. Here" Said he while handing her a large russet apple.

Suddenly a rumbling far down the road came clear as a procession of richly dressed carriages rolled past. Daria's eyes lit up. Surely they'd give a donation to a starving orphaned girl? She ran down to the street where they passed. She looked over her shoulder, where she saw Jeremy shaking his head. "Thank you!" She yelled before taking a big bite out of the apple and tossing it to the side of the walk way.

She looked down the road, she was still a long way from the start of the 'parade of coaches.' She stood on her knees, her hands cupped out, reaching for the cool surface of a single (or more) KJ. Tilting her head sideways, she caught sight of the open window of the grandest carriage so far, and inside this majestic coach was a face of swarthy skin, and a set of tawny curls. Daria's eyes widened as her hands fell to her side. Never had she imagined, in all her past ventures into the land of fairytales and princes, that someone could indeed be so flawless. As the carriage neared slowly, she heard voices from within.

"Oh look at the poor dear. Jerrold, sweet, give her a few gold KJs."

"Oh I'll give her something." She saw his full lips shape words as his deep brown eyes looked straight at her. She felt that she should stop staring, but she was frozen in his deep brown eyes. He reached for something inside the carriage. And as the carriage slowly came close to her, he reached out his hand and tipped an entire goblet full of wine onto her head. This broke her daze. Daria shrieked and jumped back, blinking it out of her eyes. As she did so, she saw an older lady inside the carriage look horrified while the boy was rolling in a fit of laughter. What she failed to see was the crown on her head.

Still slowly the procession went on. Right before Daria could leave she found another head sticking out of a carriage. She hoped it wasn't another rich noble bent on terrorizing peasants. What she saw was a kind face with green eyes and straight black hair that quickly popped back into the coach.

"Eleanor, what are you doing!" a snobby voice called out.

The door opened, and the girl, Eleanor was her name, stepped out. She was dressed in a very royal gown. In her hands was a dry washcloth and a small velvet pouch. She handed both to Daria.

Daria was surprised. After the meeting just seconds before with the other boy, she was surprised someone of the same age could be this nice. "Hello." She said pleasantly. "I'm Eleanor."

Daria smiled warmly at her and took the washcloth. "Thank you!"

"Here." She held out the pouch. "I want you to have this too."

And Daria took it eyes filled with gratitude. Eleanor smiled at her. Then, her head swung to the side, following her carriage that was at the end of the road by now.

"I'm guessing I have to go, now. She'll be having a big fit." She said to her while rolling her eyes. "Bye!" and with that she hurried down the street, hurrying to catch up with the rest of her family.

**A/N: OK, I know you guys are getting really tired of the really long updates, so here is a treat. The first two people that can tell me the name Daria's father gets to read the next chapter a week before everybody else.**


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N: I know a lot of you are really mad at Jerrold right now, but really, there is a reason. And you'll find out later. Even though all of you hate him, I don't! of course, I made him so I can't hate him, it's just wrong. My characters are like my children, and I can't hate my children. But then, again…I hate John… I hate children! I should really get help with that… But enjoy!! Btw: how do you get line breaks in there? This is really short, but I couldn't end it anywhere else.**

Chapter 6

"Daria!" A light tone called across the road.

Daria looked up from her chat with Jeremy the amiable street vendor, smiling as she saw who was calling out to her.

"Eleanor!" She said to the black haired girl that was running towards her.

Eleanor stood next to her, panting. "I have great news!" She breathed.

Daria waited, expecting to hear some daily news occurring in the interesting lives of the rich part of town, some thing that had happened in the girl's day. The story she got from her was quite unexpected.

oOoOoOo

(flashback)

Eleanor nervously looked at her mirror, trying to smooth out her hair. Her parents didn't like it if even one strand was out of its place, her mother in particular. She herself preferred it messy, and not in pristine condition, but that mattered not if her parents didn't like it. It really wasn't that she cared what her parents thought of her appearance. She mostly ignored their adamant ranting on how a proper young lady was to be dressed. But today, she decided it was only to her favor that she pleased them as much as she could.

"Eleanor!" She heard her mother call out irately. "Eleanor! Are you quite done yet? Dinner is in fifteen minutes."

"Mother! I am getting dressed!"

"Oh!" she heard her mother's surprised, but delighted exclamation. "Then you take just as long as you want!"

She rolled her eyes in the mirror. A habit she was quite fond of executing. It wasn't as if she had never needed to. Oh…There had been _many _occasions.

She put her focus back into the mirror, trying to style her hair exactly as her mother liked it—the way her peers (the other noble's children) had made it. She thought silently to herself as she struggled to pull a lock of hair back. _Silently_ because she didn't think it too wise to talk to one's self.

All the other girls whom her mother thought to be her friends were too stuck up for her. Too lost in their own prissy worlds to really realize what was happening in the world. But Eleanor saw. She saw every time she peaked out of her carriage on the way to the royal castle for one of those extravagant parties. Those people who never could have dreamed of all those luxuries they took for granted every day. This was why she was glad she met Daria all those weeks ago. It had been a month since she had known her. And with Daria was where Eleanor spent most of her time now-a-days. All her life, time seemed to be slowed down. But those days with Daria sped right by. So in that short time, Eleanor felt closer to Daria than any other person.

When she assured herself that her hair was perfect, at least perfect enough for her vain parents' standards, she headed downstairs. She was already dressed in her Mother's favorite gown. One using a prodigal amount of lace and frills. It was said to have matched her spice green eyes perfectly. Personally, she hated it. She hated it so much she wanted to cut it into pieces, then stuff those pieces in the blender, and then put the shredded remain of the dress on fire, and _then _use that fire to roast marshmallows and laugh manically by while dancing on the ashes once the fire died out…Eleanor was often told that her mind was original and unique.

(A/N: sorry if that seemed a bit weird to you. Just needed to vent.)

She opened the door and regally made her way down the stairs the way she was taught to, one hand resting gently on the rail as she stiffly walked down. Eleanor held her head up so as not to let one hair out of place. She saw her mother in the dining room, looking around eagerly for when Eleanor would walk in.

"Eleanor! Oh my word! You look magnificent!" she gushed out, rushing to her esteemed progeny. "See? How many times have I told you? You look absolutely wonderful!" Eleanor was forced to stop her eyes from rolling, though she admitted to herself later on that it was rather hard to with this goggling women babbling away above her. It was a pity that getting dressed would make her mother this happy when there were currently tons of other pressing matters in Kyrria. She stiffly wrenched herself away from her mother and sat down in her seat, the farthest one from her mother and father's.

Immediately, servants rushed in with roasted and herbed scallops, drenched with a hearty sauce. And on the side of this meal was, for Eleanor's parents, a dark garnet wine, and for Eleanor some sweet cordial. Eleanor was about to speak up after her first bite, but suddenly, she was at a loss for what to say. She took another bite and opened up her mouth, but once again her mind blanked and she hastily chomped down another spoon. Soon the pastries were being brought in for dessert and Eleanor still hadn't uttered a single word. She chewed down on the syrupy insides of her richly coated with sugar cake. She tore her eyes away from her plate and to the faces of her parents of which were staring blankly into space as they did most dinners.

"_hem hem" _a cough came from her father. "I must go over to good old Thomas' house. Said I would be there soon after dinner." And he left the room. Pretty soon, the same would with her mother.

She absentmindedly scooped up a stray lump of spices from her plate and stuck it into her mouth while she though. Once the fiery sensation in her mouth started, her eyes started to bulge and she coughed violently. Her mother looked in her direction queerly. Once she gobbled down a few goblets of iced water, her mother started. "Eleanor, are you quite alright?"

"Yes."

"Do you need anything?"

Eleanor paused. This was the moment. It was a perfect moment and she had to take it. It was so hard getting the words out. It wasn't this hard to ask one of those common questions.

"Can you pass some of the strudel?" That was a very easy question.

"Yes, yes of course."

Now here was the harder part.

"Mother," she sputtered out.

"Yes, Eleanor?" she said back, strudel coming along with it.

"I have this friend…"

Her mother immediately brightened up, her elevated cheekbones rising higher. Eleanor often digressed from the path of social welfare, at least with their part of society. She was always pushed her to meet other people, but Eleanor always immediately became harsh and anti-social. To hear that she had made a friend let her spirits rise.

"From which house, dear?"

"Actually, she's an orphan, on the streets."

And those spirits fell.

"Her name is Daria." Eleanor put out.

"And, I thought that maybe we could…" she trailed off.

"That we could _what?"_ her mother barked out, "That we could just take her in?"

Eleanor slumped in her seat.

"Think, Eleanor, Think what that could do to our status. Taking in a filthy beggar girl. It would absolutely tarnish our reputation!"

Her mother's face turned down pitifully. "I have a hard enough time looking after one daughter. Might as well have had a son." She muttered to herself.

An idea sparked in her mind.

"She's very pretty."

Her mother's eyebrows raised.

oOoOoOo

Daria's eyes widened.

"You what! You did, and your mo—huh?"

Eleanor squealed and jumped up and down again. "All I have to do is wash that dirt away!" She let go of Daria's shoulders and surveyed her head to toe. "…And comb that hair, and get you out of those rags, and get those nails cleaned through…" Her confident pose dropped for a split second before once again coming back. "We have a lot of work to do!" She said determinedly, dragging Daria to her house with no room for any arguing.


	8. Chapter 7

**A/N: Do you hate me? I think you do. Ick. Sorry!!!! Ok, so let's take a vote. **

**Who wants Jerrold to show up in the next chapter?**

**Chapter 7**

A comb, plenty of cosmetics, a few bathing oils, a fluffy towel, and other supplies lay on Eleanor's tremendous vanity table.

"Yes, we'll definitely need that." She mumbled to herself, grabbing more supplies from the endless depths of her cabinet drawer. Behind her Daria was still exploring her gigantic room, lost in wonder. Back at the inn, her old room was smaller than Eleanor's _bathtub_, and even then she was forced to share half of it with Emma. But the room didn't seem so small then until she stepped into Eleanor's.

Up at the table, Eleanor finally seemed satisfied with everything in front of her.

"Okay, I think I'm done here." She looked around her. "Daria…Daria?" She called out looking around her. She walked over to the open door to the far right of her room.

"Daria!" She called out in surprise to her friend leaning over her bathtub. This happened to be the wrong thing to do.

Daria squealed in surprise and fell headfirst into the bathtub…

The 'full of water' bathtub. A loud splash echoed within the washroom. Daria tried to stand up, but found in bewilderment and exasperation that she couldn't find the bottom of bathtub with her feet. She held herself up by the edge of the tub, and glared at her friend by the door that was beside herself with laughter.

"Well, that was the first step anyways." Eleanor said, her eyebrow raised at the girl drenched in the tub. "Now we have to scrub you clean."

She quickly grabbed a few scented bathing oils, pouring entire bottles in to fill the enormity of the bathtub. The perfume layered thickly into the water made Daria choke with disgust as it penetrated her nostrils and traveled down her throat.

"What is this?" she questioned incredulously.

"Lavender bathing oils." Eleanor answered calmly as she scrubbed away the grease and debris on Daria's body. Daria spluttered as Eleanor pushed her head down under the water and soaking her hair with the soapy water.

"Is this all really necessary?" she asked, trying to get out of the tub.

"Absolutely; _You_ may not think you smell bad, but wealthy noses are sensitive."

This quieted her down.

"I am _not _smelly.." She muttered quietly.

oOoOoOo

"Ow!" Daria complained as Eleanor grabbed her hair back and beaded it with a shiny pearl. She was fully washed now, cleaner than she had ever been. Her skin was much paler than she had previously thought. And her hair was darker than she'd thought. It made a drastic change. But she'd preferred the smell before. She was now cloaked in such a heavy perfume, it was making her gag every now and then. Suddenly, Eleanor yanked her head back again, putting in another small pearl.

"Almost done," she muttered to herself. And with a last puff of powder, she smiled to herself.

"You're gorgeous." She reassured Daria. _Am I really_? Daria grabbed the great puffs of her dress, and tried hard to make it move with her to the mirror. "How heavy is all this?" she asked, feeling her hair towering above her.

"Stop being such a wimp." Eleanor said, disapprovingly. "And the peasants think _we_ have it easy." Daria glared at her, but trudged slowly along to the large vanity mirror, taking care to not let any of the tiny pearls that Eleanor had put in her hair fall.

"Wow…Is that _me_?" It was hard to believe. A beautiful girl stared back at her through the mirror. Elegant curls started atop her head and cascaded gently down her back, the raven black of it shiny and glossy. Little pearls beaded the sides, bringing creamy highlights to significant parts of the up-do. A large necklace glittered by her neck, making the neck itself look insignificant by it grandness. And the _dress_ was something else. It was a lovely mint green, working great with the paleness of her skin. The slightly ruffled bodice clung snugly, while the skirt billowed out in a sea of green lace. She was amazing.

But she noticed none of that. What she did notice was how it tied together. She looked just like all those other girls with large amounts of money. Snooty, full of it, and with something big stuck up her butt. "I look horrible!" she exclaimed. Eleanor laughed at her. "You do, but my mother will love it."

Daria laughed too. It was impossible not to with Eleanor there.

"Well come on then." Eleanor dragged her out of the room. "Mother!"

oOoOoOo

Lady Gianna, or Eleanor's mother, was a very sociable person. Which would explain why there was constantly company at the mansion. Like the large lady sitting across from her, Madame Vasquez.

This company was startled, however, when a loud voice shouted from upstairs. "Mother!" Madame Vasquez started with an un-ladylike squeal. Her glass of wine spilled over the plush white sofa, staining it with garnet. "My bad!" The Madame said, inspecting the damage. Lady Gianna smiled plastically. "You're not to blame. That rude child!" _This better be good. _She had forgotten already about the peasant 'daughter'. "Just wait here. I'll be right back." She assured Madame Vasquez who was pouring herself another glass. _And don't spoil any more of the furniture! That cushion is worth more than your pitiful existence. _She walked with a haughty strut out of the room and upstairs to where Eleanor had called from. "Eleanor what is it?" She asked sharply while still in the hallway. "I have a very important guest over and—" she stopped as she turned in her room.

_My oh my. _She caught a glimpse of Daria. Many occasions had gone by at grand parties, where the children of the other parents caught her eye, much more _grand_, in lack of a better word, than Eleanor could ever accomplish. It was torture to just stand next to their mothers and hear them bragging... on and on and on. And it wasn't as though she had any material to fall back on. It was _Eleanor_ she had for a daughter, and even she knew that Eleanor wasn't very special. But _Daria_. She stared at the girl standing next to her daughter. Absolutely brilliant. This was the kind of girl she wished she had spawned. She immediately pulled on a faux smile and put her arm around the beautiful girl, looking out of place in the large mint green dress she had bought Eleanor last year. "So you must be Daria." She said, admiring her sleek, black curls. "Yes," the girl said shyly." She heard the door open behind her. _The moose herself, Madame Vasquez. Wandering my house. How rude. _Lady Gianna turned around and smiled at Madame Vasquez, who had her mouth open behind her. "Is this one of yours?" she asked the Lady. _Jealous? Probably, with that whale of hers. _Lady Gianna smiled, "Yes."

oOoOoOo

"Yes."……… Daria squealed with Eleanor. A family of her own, a _family _again. Lady Gianna escorted Lady Vasquez downstairs, after winking at Eleanor. Eleanor rolled her eyes next to Daria. "Let me show you your room!" Eleanor screamed. _My room? _

"How do you have a room for me if your mom just agreed right now?" She asked, confused. "Oh silly Daria, we always have extra rooms we don't need. We always have extra everything we don't need." Eleanor looked at her knowingly, smugly too. "It's part of being rich." _I could get used to that. _"Okay." Daria was still unsure.

"Come on." Eleanor exclaimed, pulling Daria's arm. "Can I at least get out of this dress?" She said, looking at the endless folds and ruffles. "If out of that dress you mean into a new one." Eleanor said. Daria's eyes widened.

"_Another _dress?" Was this what they meant about the snobby, rich people being tortured souls? Because this was definitely torture.

oOoOoOo

"Daria, stop fussing. That dress looks great on you." Eleanor said to Daria while they headed down a large hall. "I don't care if it _looks _great; It _feels _uncomfortable!"

Eleanor sighed. "Stop whining." She then muttered to herself. "And the peasants say _we're_ whiny." Daria heard.

"I am not whiny. And no longer am I a peasant!" Daria reminded her. Eleanor smiled. "No, you are not." "No I am not." She whispered to herself. Then she looked down at her dress. It was red, making her ivory skin glow strangely. It was casual. Well not so casual to her as it was for Eleanor, but it was less than the other dress. "Do I really look good in this?" She asked, feeling once again like a carefree girl. "Absolutely." Eleanor assured her. They stopped in front of a large door. Eleanor smiled at Daria and pushed it open. The room was large, _very _large. It looked almost like Eleanor's, fully furnished. "Wow." Daria whispered, twirling around to get sight of the whole room. "This is amazing!" She said, plopping down on the soft bed. And it was. The only thing she didn't like about the room was the bright, florescent, pink of it. "Yeah." Eleanor said, sitting down next to her. "It was supposed to be for my sister."

Daria was surprised. "You have a sister?" Eleanor smiled at her sadly. "I was supposed to. But, something went wrong when she was born, she didn't make it past the first hour." Daria had no idea what to say to this. "I had a sister too." She admitted in a soft voice. Eleanor looked surprised. Daria had never told her about her life before Frell. She listened intently. "And a brother. A mom, too." She looked down in her lap. "Before I came here, I lived with my family in an inn. But i-it" her voice broke. Eleanor startled. "You don't have to tell me." She told Daria. She looked at Eleanor gratefully, "Thank You." They smiled.

"So.." Eleanor started. "Do you have anything that you left behind? You know items of possession and such?" Daria furrowed her eyebrows. There really wasn't anything that she owned. In her little corner where she slept in an alley, there was only a tattered dress, a ruined basket, and some food she had rummaged…and her necklace that she had hidden under the tomato. _The necklace. _"Tomato!" she exclaimed running out of the room. Eleanor followed after her. "Tomato? You want to go back for your tomato?" She watched Daria open the door and run out into the streets. Eleanor called out behind her, "Daria! We have plenty of tomatoes in the kitchen!" but it didn't work.

(**A/N: was gonna end it here, but I felt too nice to. ******** be happe)**

oOoOoOo

Daria ran without stopping until she reached the corner of the alley she had previously resided. It was no hassle on her anymore. Almost a month of living rough and she was tough. She knocked away the vegetables, and sighed. The necklace was still there. She gathered it up and tucked it away in a hidden pocket in one of the many folds of her dress. The wealthy needed somewhere to keep their riches. She heard a voice behind her. "Daria? Is that you?" It was Jeremy, tugging home his fruit cart. "Hi Jeremy," she said cheerfully. There was a young boy standing next to him. "Who's this?" She asked curiously. "Oh. I've told you about my son Peter." He had. But Jeremy changed the subject. "Daria what are you wearing?" She looked down at the red dress. Could it be any more obviously wealthy?

She held the skirt of the dress, and chuckled nervously. "I kind of got adopted into a new family." Jeremy smiled a big smile. "That's wonderful, Daria!" She smiled at him. Another voice sounded behind her. "Daria!" She winced. Eleanor was probably freaked out. But she wasn't. She ran up to Daria, a smile on her face.

"Do you have your tomato now?" she said with a chuckle. "Yeah," Daria said, embarrassed. Eleanor noticed the company. "Who're your friends?" she asked, curious. "Oh!" Daria said. "Ok, this is Jeremy and his son Peter." She gestured to the two standing in front of her. She looked at Eleanor. She had a strange smile on her face. Peter walked up, a smile on his face too. "Hello." He said charmingly, holding out his hand. Eleanor giggled. "Hello." She batted her eyelashes. Daria couldn't believe her eyes. Was _this_ Eleanor? "Eleanor, we have to go." Daria reminded her. Eleanor looked around at her and glared. It wasn't possible for her eyebrow to raise even higher.

Peter took Eleanor's hand and brought it to his lips, "Goodbye, in hope we'll meet again." Eleanor's eyes were left wide, as Peter helped Jeremy tug the cart down the street. As they rounded the corner, she sank to the ground.

"Wow."

**A/N: Sorry for the long time taking. I actually took three days to write this whole chapter, but, you know…Didn't feel like it the past month. But it isn't my fault!! I am forever forced to study for the damned S.A.T. The bane of my existence. At least for the next month. Feel sorry for me!!!**


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"Bring in more paint." Daria called out to one of the many maids she now controlled. The maid by the door stood straight to attention. "Yes, my lady." She curtsied in her black uniform, before running out. _My lady? _Daria sighed; no matter how many times she told them not to, the maids still called her 'my lady'. Probably just didn't want to remember all the names.

She picked up another brush, larger than the first, and dipped it in the thick, royal red paint. It had always been her favorite color, since she was little. She swept the paintbrush lightly over the wall, covering the bright pink with deep red. Daria had decided to get rid of the nasty color once and for all. She was surprised that her "parents" let her. She had always imagined that they were the strict type. But when she brought her thoughts to Eleanor's attention, Eleanor had laughed and said that 'they simply didn't want to deal with the tantrums.'

Sudden and heavy footsteps drew her from her reverie

"I got more paint!" Eleanor called out suddenly, running in with panting breaths. Her hair was slightly mussed. She looked much disheveled. "You're late." Daria reminded her. She had been planning for a few days to paint her room. Eleanor begged to let her join. But when the day actually came, she was out. Typical.

"I'm sorry." Eleanor said, picking up a paintbrush and helping her with the room. Daria '_tssked' _disappointedly. But a smile stayed on her face. As soon as she had picked it up, Eleanor dropped the paintbrush and leaned against the dry part of the wall. She had a wide, cheesy grin on her face. She looked at Daria excitedly. "He is so _romantic_!"

She was talking about Peter. It had been almost a week since they had met. Eleanor sneaked back the next day, and the next day, _and_ the next day. Daria, however, didn't approve. He was very handsome, and seemed nice, but whenever she was near him she could see something malevolent in his features. She felt sometimes that she would just imagine that part of him, seeing how Eleanor treated him, but it was a nagging sense that wouldn't go away.

"I don't like him." She said with a frown on her face, for the umpteenth time. "Why?" Eleanor asked, exasperated. She had wanted more than anything for her sister to approve. Daria moved over to another pink part of the wall. She drew a heart, and then crossed it out. "I just have a bad feeling about him." She said finally. It was rather like a sixth sense.

"There is nothing wrong with him!" Eleanor stamped her foot.

Daria sighed. She knew Eleanor, and there was no talking sense into her once she was set on something. She would rather they stopped fighting about it.

"Let's stop talking about it." Daria suggested. Eleanor agreed. They got back to painting the room. "Did you know that all the rooms in the royal palace are this color?" she said out of the blue. Daria tilted her head to the side. "No. I didn't." That was odd. She had always thought that deep purple would be the royal color.

"Then why are you painting your room this color." Eleanor asked curiously. She had thought at first that Daria was trying to feel queenly. She wouldn't have blamed her. After living on the streets for who knows how long, she would have liked some luxury too. To remind her that she could be royal.

"Well..." Daria answered, thinking. "It's just been my favorite color since I was little."

Eleanor whispered to her, joking. "Maybe that means you're supposed to be a queen!" Daria snorted. "Me? A peasant turn queen?"

"Why not?" Eleanor asked, serious this time. "You are technically a noble now. And anything's possible in Kyrria." "Well not this," Daria said pointedly, turning back to paint more of her room.

**Later**:

"It really does look much better."

Daria voiced her thoughts. "It looks perfect." She looked around her at her once-pink, now-red room. Eleanor plopped down on Daria's bed.

"I like it better than mine." She told her, pretending to sound jealous.

Daria shook her head still.

"Nah; it could use a personal touch."

Eleanor muttered something about people that could never be happy with what they had.

"So…," Eleanor started. "What?" Daria asked wearily.

"It's nothing really. We just need to find you a great dress." Daria groaned. "Why?"

Eleanor twirled her hair casually. "No reason. Just a ball at the palace." Daria yelped.

"A ball! No. No way!" She stalked off to the couch at the south end of her room.

"Daria, it's part of being in the family. You have to go to parties. 'Elevates the Social Status' or something." She ran over to Daria.

"Isn't there anyway that we wouldn't have to go to this one?" She asked hopefully. Eleanor _humphed_. "Like I haven't tried that already. Nope; no way we—no way _you're _getting out of this.

_Another dress! I just got out of the last one to paint my room! _She was wearing one of the maid's uniforms. She had begged her new "parents" to let her. At the mention of one of her expensive dresses getting paint on it, Lady Gianna hurriedly agreed. It was such a relief to get out of those big lumps of cloth. The one bad thing about it, however, was how short it was. It stopped a bit below mid-thigh. But you couldn't get everything.

"Eleanor, I can't even dance." Daria sighed, looking at her with puppy dog eyes. They didn't work. And neither did the excuse.

"Please, Daria. It isn't like _I_ ever dance. Anyway, I bet you the entire time, my mother will be bragging about you." She said so quite confidently.

Daria was confused. "Brag about me?"

"Oh Daria." A roll of her eyes. "You're gorgeous. My mother can't wait to show you off." Daria blushed. She had never discussed her looks before. She had never needed to. But she knew that Eleanor was so far the prettiest girl she'd seen so far, after living with the poor class. "You're much prettier…" She admitted. "Oh shove it." Eleanor exclaimed. "Really; beauty is only skin deep." Of course Eleanor was the only girl in Frell that thought so. "Now," she said, rubbing her hands together wickedly. "Into that dress…"

"No!"

oOoOoOo

"This is too much." She said, looking at the largeness of her light pink gown. The skirt especially was over done. It looked like silk and there were big folds of it over lapping the other, held in place with beautiful beads. Daria had a faint suspicion that they were genuine gemstones. The top was fit with a million tiny sequins, glittering even without any light. Somehow, in a way that she didn't know was possible, the pink dress ended up being larger and grander than the green.

Eleanor was wearing a beautiful white dress, looking like she was going to a wedding. Unlike Daria's, it had no sleeves and the bodice was plain. And instead of the skirt poofing out in front of her, it just drifted behind in a long elegant train (which belied Eleanor's usual clumsiness). Somehow, she looked like she truly belonged in the dress. Not because of her looks, or the way the dress clung to her body like Daria, but in the way she held herself in it. Her pose that showed raw kindness, warm humor, and just the happiness you felt being around her would draw in more admirers than would just a pretty face, in Daria's opinion.

Eleanor started again with the explanations. "Now remember," we are going to the royal _palace_, to see the king, queen, and _prince._ And you need to wear something fit. Everyone, who is anyone, is going to be there. And there'll be a lot of food and _wine._"

Daria simply stared at her, confused at the emphasis in the sentence.

Eleanor sighed. "Never mind."

"Eleanor, Daria! Come down, it's time to leave." The hurried out of the room and rushed down the grand staircase. Lady Gianna saw them rushing. "Oh do no bustle around so much! Take your time. We'd rather be late than be messes." She taught them. "

Eleanor simply rolled her eyes while Daria giggled. The manservant held open the door for them as they walked down to the carriage. The three of them squeezed onto the velvety seats, and then with a cracking whip and a yell, they headed off.

Daria whispered over to Eleanor. "What does the palace look like?" Eleanor whispered back excitedly. "Oh! It's amazing. I think it was just down the street from where you lived when _you were a peasant. _The _prince, _is our age, though I've never talked to him before."

"Do you think he's nice?"

Eleanor was very tempted to hit her over the head with something heavy. Daria had completely disregarded the strain she put on her words. She gave up and answered dishonestly, for her mother was listening with her head turned the other way.

"I think he's a wonderful person." But she concurrently shook her head vigorously. Daria stifled a laugh, but kept a large smile.

Lady Gianna suddenly spoke up. "Oh! We're here!" she said with excitement. Daria quickly looked out her window. "Wow." She whispered.

It was larger than even Eleanor's house, and Daria hadn't thought that that was possible. Its large turrets reached up for the sky, and it hugged the ground as far as one could see. The little windows closest to the middle were lit brightly, showing beautiful silhouettes swirling a graceful waltz.

Lady Gianna and Eleanor, however, left the gaping to Daria, for they had seen the palace far too many times. In truth, what else did the nobles have to do?

The coachman directed the horses to where many other carriages were settled down. "Come on Daria, let's go." Eleanor whispered. Daria turned her head from the amazing palace and consented. "Okay." She started to open the door, but before she could reach the handle, it was open. She sighed. Living wealthy made her feel so incompetent.

She then looked down at the dilemma of her skirt. She grabbed as much as would fit into her hands and gingerly put her foot on the ground. She smiled once it was in place and confidently put the other foot down to join Eleanor and her mother.

They headed towards the grande staircase leading to the door, Lady Gianna leading, and the two girls walking side by side behind her. As she reached the bottom of the staircase, Daria found herself sprawled across the steps.

She stifled a curse, though the option was tempting.

A few days ago, Daria had been taken to get measured for new gowns. A pin had happened to prick her. When the un-holy word slipped from her mouth, Lady Gianna had gasped from the side-lines with a scandalized look on her face.

She had steered Daria out before the seamstress could finish, and they headed straight home.

Letting another slip of the mouth wouldn't go good here, especially not with all the other people. Eleanor was immediately by her side. "Don't walk too quickly." She whispered to her, helping her up the stairs.

oOoOoOo

"Wow." Daria whispered, her eyes debating on whether to squint to focus on a single piece of mastery or to widen and take everything in. The large, circular ballroom was full of everything including drink tables, elegant ornaments, handsome young suitors, and gorgeous maidens. Perfect ingredients for a ball.

Eleanor smiled, taking her hand and leading her to the dance floor. They stopped right at the border, being hit with small gusts of wind as the couples twirled past them.

It was then that the frightening realization hit Daria. "Eleanor! I don't know how to dance!" Eleanor looked at her surprised, and then furrowed her eyebrows. "Hadn't thought of that." She muttered to herself. This only led to Daria being at the threshold of full-fledged panic mode.

"Calm down," Eleanor hissed as she heard her sister start to hyperventilate. This really was a dilemma.

"Okay, I think—" she was cut off by one of the men stopping in front of them. Daria specifically.

"Can I treat my lady to a dance?" He asked smoothly. Daria shyly looked away as Eleanor snickered beside her. She had every intention of saying no, but as her head was turned away, she caught sight of Lady Gianna's face. The look on there said that there was no way Daria was allowed to say no. How great.

"Sure…" she said quietly. The man immediately took her hands and swept her into proper position. She was met by his ruffled sleeve in a close proximity to her face. He dragged her across the room, taking big army steps. There was no room to make any movement of her own, for the man felt the need to make her his personal puppet. She looked back at Eleanor.

She, too, had been asked to dance. Daria guessed that Lady Gianna hadn't let her say no, either.

But Eleanor took great care to stomp on her partner's foot with every single step she took. Hard.

Unfortunately for Eleanor, her partner looked too smitten to care.

At last, the music drew to a close, and Daria was able to escape from her partner. Just in time too, for it looked like he was about to ask her for another dance. She grabbed Eleanor on the way, who looked like she was about to swing her leg into places very unpleasant.

"The nerve of him!" Eleanor growled. "Acting like I'm his…his…UGH!"

"Like mine was any better!" Daria ranted. "I didn't even have to lift a leg. He just dragged me everywhere!" She grabbed a glass of red wine by the table, and took an angry gulp. It wasn't enough to make a difference in the volume. The goblets in the palace were _huge. _

oOoOoOo

(_Jerrold POV, yeah, I know it's in first person and the rest of the story isn't, but just bear with me here okay? We need to see what's going on in his head. His awkward, awkward head.)_

These dances were never-ending.

They _never_-ended.

Girl after girl after girl, they just kept coming back for more. A bunch of piranhas. Or vultures could be a better name, as they all _did _look like vultures. A bunch of greedy, stalker vultures.

Especially the smiles. The large, wide, menacing smiles that gave me the most haunting nightmares. Those made the whole ball experience even less enjoyable. What guy would want to be in a stupid ball when they could just, just do _anything_ else. No sane one, that was for sure.

I had taken to hiding behind the beverage table, cowering behind the legs when any of the more assertive girls walked by. It was pitiful I knew, to hide, a _crown prince _especially, but it was the best I could do. And I maintained more dignity doing this than running away…in the sense that no one saw me.

I suddenly stiffened as I felt the hem of a skirt brush my arm. I looked above me. Thankfully, the girl that was leaning against the drink table was faced the other way and didn't see me. I relaxed when I came to that realization. That was when I really _saw _her.

She was absolutely lovely, with her glossy black locks and petite frame. And her perfectly sculpted face wasn't sharp and angular like all the other stiff beauties in the room. It was like an angel's face, her cheeks rounded to fit a beautiful, happy smile.

I had to admit that I might have drooled…No, wait, that was just spilled water seeping through the tablecloth.

I looked at her angel's face with scrutiny. Though I didn't know where from, she looked familiar. So very familiar.

I was suddenly awoken from my trance when Mother called.

"Jerrold. It's time to greet the guests. Goodness child, where are you?"

Ah, Time to face reality.

I looked back one last time for the girl, and there she was, talking to another pretty girl, though that other girl was no where near as lovely as my beauty.

I sighed before crawling out the other side of the table and behind a plant. And so I appeared from behind the plant, and no one noticed where I was hiding.

I ran over to where I saw my mother bustling about, still looking for me. Her face broke out in a wide smile as she saw me.

"Jerrold!" She said joyfully. "Oh, come on now, dear. Lady Gianna and Eleanor have a new addition to their family and we must just meet her." My ears immediately perked up. Eleanor! That was the person I had seen the girl talking to. So that must mean that this was the same girl. I obediently followed my mother, for once, wanting my chance to talk to her.

What a mess. A prince, smitten with a girl he's never even talked to. A girl he doesn't even know. Ah well. That was life, right?

I followed my mother to the other corner of the ballroom, seeing them in the distance.

At first, all I saw was her beauty…

Then I saw her anger.

oOoOoOo

Daria clutched her glass of garnet wine, talking to Eleanor. She felt uneasy, as if she was being watched. But she had felt like that for a long time now, so she ignored it.

"And then my mother caught me. I was in so much trouble. And for stuffing my shoes too!" Eleanor laughed here, interrupting her own story. "And after she calmed down, she told me the whole tale, about being "friends of fairies", or something. And she told me that our cook was a fairy too! Mandy's been here for centuries! And she makes the most amazing food." Eleanor came to the end of her tale. Daria laughed at her flippant way of saying something that was actually very much a big deal. "No wonder your feet are so small!"

Lady Gianna came out of nowhere next to them.

"Girls! The Queen and the Prince would like to meet us!"

Eleanor looked at the hand in which Daria held her glass and laughed.

Daria squinted her eyes, confused.

"What?" She whispered to Eleanor as their mother ushered them to meet the royal family.

"Nothing of importance." Eleanor said, cheeks red from laughter. Daria rolled her eyes. She was so random sometimes.

The waited in the small unoccupied corner of the room. Finally, they spotted two figures walking towards them from the distance. As their faces came into view, Daria felt hers distort in rage.

A simple moment replayed in her mind.

_She looked down the road, she was still a long way from the start of the 'parade of coaches.' She stood on her knees, her hands cupped out, reaching for the cool surface of a single (or more) KJ. Tilting her head sideways, she caught sight of the open window of the grandest carriage so far, and inside this majestic coach was a face of swarthy skin, and a set of tawny curls. Daria's eyes widened as her hands fell to her side. Never had she imagined, in all her past ventures into the land of fairytales and princes, that someone could indeed be so flawless. As the carriage neared slowly, she heard voices from within. _

_"Oh look at the poor dear. Jerrold, sweet, give her a few gold KJs."_

_"Oh I'll give her something." She saw his full lips shape words as his deep brown eyes looked straight at her. She felt that she should stop staring, but she was frozen in his deep brown eyes. He reached for something inside the carriage. And as the carriage slowly came close to her, he reached out his hand and tipped an entire goblet full of wine onto her head. This broke her daze. Daria shrieked and jumped back, blinking it out of her eyes. As she did so, she saw an older lady inside the carriage look horrified while the boy was rolling in a fit of laughter. What she failed to see was the crown on her head. _

So the jerk was a prince. Of course. Everyone knew the fairytales were wrong. Nobility didn't come with kindness; they were all stuck-up snobs. And she should have known. She gripped her glass harder.

The boy, Jerrold, looked alarmed as he walked closer, taken aback by her glares. But she saw no recognition. So he didn't even remember. She clenched her teeth.

The Queen and Prince stopped in front of them.

"So is this your new daughter, Lady Gianna?" The queen asked, observing the girl.

"Yes." The woman said proudly. "This is my Daria."

Jerrold walked up to her and bowed. "It's a pleasure to meet you." He said suavely. It had no effect on her anger.

She looked down at her glass, and something clicked in her mind.

In one fluid movement, she threw the contents of her glass into his face, feeling great joy as she saw the red stain his face. She then dropped the goblet on the floor behind her, and stalked away. But she felt a smile touch her face.

Oh, sweet comeuppance.

**A/N: Ok, so I lied. Again. Sue me. But please don't. You want to know why? I'll tell you anyway. IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!! Woohoo! 2/6 = the best day of the year! So how about you all get me special b-day presents by reviewing? You know its customary. So you must. And yes, Jerrold does have bad luck with the ladies. Poor soul. But Daria got her revenge. Whoopee for her. 3 cheers for Daria!** s


	10. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer: Not mine. No amount of begging 'the Great One' will change that. So just bear with me. Sewage is not cool, whether in legal form or pungent waste form. _

**A/N: **I know I don't usually, but I decided to give this chapter a name. It just fits so well with the format of the chapter. After this, it'll just stay numbers, though.

**Chapter 7 – Two kinds of Love**

_Previously: _

_She looked down at her glass, and something clicked in her mind. _

_In one fluid movement, she threw the contents of her glass into his face, feeling great joy as she saw the red stain his face. She then dropped the goblet on the floor behind her, and stalked away. But she felt a smile touch her face. _

_Oh, sweet comeuppance. _

Present:

"Eleanor! Such a disgrace. In front of the entire court all the same!"

Daria closed her eyes and leaned against the door she was listening at. It wasn't like she needed to. She already knew what was going to happen. She was merely anxious for Eleanor. Apparently, the 'disgrace' was her fault. It was stupid, Daria realized as she looked back on it, to act so quickly on impulse. That moment of anger had resulted in that sodding prince sending her back to where he first found her. It was all his fault. Entirely and completely. She tuned her thoughts back to the conversation.

"That's enough! She has to go!" Lady Gianna said in a voice that couldn't be reasoned with.

She and Eleanor had been arguing about the matter since morning. When they'd gotten back from the disastrous ball, Lady Gianna had screamed for a maid to follow her to her room for a relaxing massage and went to bed immediately after. But before she did, the two children heard many crashes of breaking objects. Daria knew since then, actually she knew even before, that'd she'd be sent back to the streets.

_Ah well, _Daria always was a tough cookie. And it wasn't too horrible on the road. She quietly gave herself a mini pep talk as Eleanor kept arguing inside the closed oak doors.

"You know what he did to her! It was his fault in the first place!"

"He can do whatever he pleases! Don't you understand that, Eleanor? He is a _prince_. Unfortunately, the same privilege does not extend to the rest of us, as Daria so clearly tried to disprove."

Daria heard bustling inside. She guessed Lady Gianna had stood up. "That's enough! One more word out of you and you'll be following her out those doors."

Daria's heart sunk. She had gotten to know Eleanor well enough over the past month to predict what she would say next. And in Daria's mind, it was pretty darn stupid of a thing to do.

"Fine." Eleanor said calmly.

"Thank you, Eleanor." Lady Gianna said, sighing.

"No. I meant, fine, I'll go with her."

Daria could imagine the look of shock on Lady Gianna's face.

"Eleanor!" She exclaimed. "Think for a second what you're saying!"

Daria pressed her eye back into the keyhole of the door. Through it, she could see Lady Gianna and part of Eleanor on the left side. They were both standing up. Lady Gianna's arms were limply at her side, while Eleanor's were crossed stubbornly at her chest. Eleanor nodded curtly.

"I know what I'm saying, Mother. I've made my decision."

Lady Gianna looked close to fainting.

"B-b-bu…" Daria saw the woman stutter. Her discomfort and total lacking in the right thing to do was completely out of character…and kind of hysterical.

"—However," Eleanor continued, and Daria saw the start of a smirk touch her lips, "think of what everyone will say once they hear that you've abandoned your own blood to perish as a _peasant._" And at this she held her hand to her forehead in mock horror. Daria snickered. Eleanor really knew how to blow things out of proportion.

Lady Gianna looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a very large monster truck (so to say in modern speak).

Finally she held hear head in her hands in defeat and proclaimed very dramatically, "Oh woe is me. What other choice have I?"

Daria sunk slowly to the ground near the doors, light-headed with relief. She was staying, with Eleanor! She let out a strangled yelp of joy. The ladies inside didn't hear because Elenaor had already started squealing and showering her mother with thanks. Daria peered back into the keyhole. Eleanor's face, although happy was clearly unsurprised. Though, Elenaor was a complete mystery to her mother, she knew everything there was to know about Lady Gianna. Eleanor looked towards the door and winked, guessing who was crouching behind, listening intently while simultaneously tittering with joy.

But then, right when their poor ears were adjusting to the quiet, they were struck by the sound of a high-pitched trumpet blowing outside. Daria stood up abruptly, succeeding in slamming into the golden door knob above her. She stepped away from the door as Eleanor and Lady Gianna stepped out of the Living Room. They all knew what the trumpeting meant.

It was the royal herald, sent out to deliver a royal message. They shoved open the front doors and watched as he galloped down the road on his grey-patched steed. This was the richer part of town, where all the nobles lived, and they were all friendly with the family of the castle, but only on certain, _special _occasions did they send the herald out. They saw other little heads poking out of their windows and doors as they watched him pass. They watched nervously as the herald got to the end of the road and started towards their house. Lady Gianna glared most venomously at Daria; they knew what kind of message the Prince would like to deliver…not too pleasant, so to say.

He stopped a way away fro the door and blew his trumpet once more and then started to speak in his loud baritone. And then he said something none of them expected. "His highness Jerrold, crown prince of our blessed land Kyrria, royally declares his greatest apologies to the fair maiden Daria."

The three of them stood still by the doorway, beset with shock.

He cleared his throat and continued. "And the entire royal family extends their invite to her and following family to join them for supper in a moonrise away at the banquet hall." He then bowed as low as he could without looking like he was sniffing his horse. Then he straightened up, tucking that blasted trumpet to a holder slung on his back. "Hyah!" He yelled, and he steered the horse back down the street.

Lady Gianna's face was shining. She hugged Daria close to her. "Oh my child. How pleasant! I always knew you did the right thing."

oOoOoOo

"Eleanor!" Daria screamed at her. She was hiding under the covers. She sat down on the bed and weakly hit the lump underneath.

"Daria…" she groaned. "Do not impair my hearing."

"You can't just let me go alone! With the Prince. Who. I. HATE."

"I can't help it if I'm sick." Her voice muffled out from the duvet. She had called sick this evening, and now she got to bail out with the Prince's "apology dinner", leaving Daria to survive with her own devices. In Daria's mind, it was downright selfish.

By now, Daria had gotten quite used to the "dressed up" thing, and she was now sporting a big white gown split in the skirt and laced with flowers, with a tiara like headband on her hair. It was just like the other dresses she was forced to wear. (And I do not use the word 'forced' lightly.)

"Eleanor, please. Come!" She begged one last time as Lady Gianna called her from outside. All she got from that was a glare. Well as good as a glare that you could give when one was hiding their head beneath a thick cover. She said and gave up, rushing down the stairs and meeting the lady at the front door.

_Here goes nothing. _

oOoOoOo

Eleanor listened intently as the door shut.

"Finally." She sighed. She slipped out from underneath her covers, careful not to mess anything up. She was already dressed in a nice little white dress. It draped out near her feet, and ruffled at the sleeves. Her hair was up in a messy bun, waves caressing her face. It was much better than a grand ball gown. It was completely Eleanor. She hurried near her mirror, and readjusted some of the yellow petals she fitted into her hair. When she deemed herself ready, she ran to the door of her room and put her shoes on.

She hurried down the stairs. If the maids saw her, they didn't really care, humming their lives away as they mopped or cleaned something or another. What was the drama of the upper class to them?

She slipped out of the front doors and hurried down the road. She looked behind her to see if any of the windows were lighted up. None of them were, so she was safe. She headed along the road to the poorer part of Frell, keeping in the shadows. This time of night was scary.

She jumped as she heard the hoot of an owl. The faster she got to where she was going, the better. Finally she neared the edge of the market place. She headed down to a small cottage. She saw Peter waiting for her, his peasant's garb (undoubtedly the nicest he could find) looking charming on him. She ran the distance between them. She smiled as he grabbed her hand and led her down the dark alley. In the middle was a single table with a wide cream candle lying in the middle, giving out a glowing light. The table itself was clothed with a scarlet setting. Two plates were lying with a scrumptious salad made from his father's left over produce.

"You look like a princess." He whispered into her ear, wrapping his arms around her narrow waist.

Eleanor giggled as she rested her hands lightly on his neck and laid her forehead on his. It was such a perfect moment. And to think, Daria was stuck with a pestering prince.

oOoOoOo

Daria entered the castle for the second time, now knowing what lay behind those pretty doors. And because of that…She _really _didn't want to be here. Her mother, however, was happier than a sugar craving child at a deserts table. And her cheerfulness was enough for the both of them. _Way _enough.

Daria smiled stiffly as they strutted up to the banquet hall's large table, their heels clicking loudly on the marble floor. Well actually, it seemed that the family and replaced the large table with a smaller one. One where it was much easier to talk to their guests.

_Darn!_ And Daria was planning to sit as far away as possible from Jerrold. With this replacement table, yeah, that'd be five feet.

"Gianna, and Daria, dear. Welcome. Oh, the children will be eating separately."

Scratch that. Two feet.

The grown ups got all set and done on the table. She quickly glanced to her left. Jerrold had taken the liberty to leading her out into the palace gardens. How _pleasant. _She gave a strained smile as he tried to start a conversation.

"Daria, right?"

"Yes." She answered stiffly.

"Oh. I'm—"

"The big-headed Prince?"

He flinched.

"Um…No. I'm Jerrold."

"Is there a difference?"

He did really have an answer to this. They just kept walking down the path, Daria wondering how big this garden really was.

They walked in silence for quite sometime, each stuck with their own thoughts. And one set of thoughts was not all that pleasant…

_Who does he think he is? Sure he's a prince, but that doesn't mean that he can go doing whatever he wants. Oh wait until he's king. There'll be mutiny for sure. And won't I just be at the head of that? And what now? Inviting me to a dinner, thinking that'll make up for it. Pompous brat doesn't even know what he needs to make up for. Ugh! I'd rather be hung than this poor fate of being within a five-mile radius of him. Oh, much closer than that, two inches. Maybe I'll just scoot a little away. Oh! Lookie here. He comes even closer! URGH!_

She looked at his face for the first time since they'd come outside. It was still wearing a shocked expression. As though he couldn't remember what he had done in the first place. _Well screw him, I'm not telling._

oOoOoOo

Eleanor smiled at Peter as she picked at her salad. Their eyes had not left each other's the whole time they were eating. His was a lovely brown. They were playing footsie underneath the table, smiling those smiles that only lovestruck puppies could wear. She finally put her fork down when she realized that it was scraping the bottom of the copper plate.

She realized that he had been done quite a while ago. Not that it was her fault for not noticing. His eyes were just so enchanting.

"Are you done?" he asked politely.

She smiled shyly and let him collect their plates. He walked blindly to a door on the far part of the alley. A part where the candle light did not reach. She heard the thunk of him closing the door behind him as he went to put the plates away.

She suddenly squealed. This was perfect! Just as perfect as all the other dates. But still, she couldn't help getting excited over each one. Oh how did she never meet him before. She made a mental note to thank Daria once she loosened up to it.

She heard the door open again and saw him approaching the table. He stopped next to her seat and took her hand.

"Come with me. I want to show you something."

She obediently got up and followed him. They walked out of the alley, leaving the table and candle behind. They walked up the road, Eleanor just watching him. Their fingers were intertwined as she leaned onto his strong shoulder.

oOoOoOo

There was a strangely awkward silence as Daria and Jerrold walked through the garden. The garden itself was so overflowed with the most exotic, sweet smelling flowers, and Daria was getting that nauseous sickly feeling from the smell. Of course, the nausea might have been coming from the person walking next to her, feeling perfectly at home. But either way, she desperately wanted to leave.

She looked further ahead. It seemed as though the path split into two, one heading straight onwards and the other veering right. There was a quaint rest area by the middle.

He led her to a small little bench under a tree by this area. It would have been a cute sight, shining under the full moon, if it weren't for the stuck up, good for nothing boy sitting there. Not that she held a grudge or anything. Daria was very anti-grudge.

_Stupid, stupid boy. _

"So…" he started. Trying to break the ice once more. "How, um, how do you like your new family?"

"More than I like you, that's for sure." She muttered.

That was the final straw, it seemed, for him. He sighed, frustrated. "Okay. What is your problem?" There was only so much antagonism you could get before you started to get suspicious. Smart boy.

Daria widened her eyes. Oh, she'd let him know alright.

oOoOoOo

Peter took Eleanor up a cobblestoned path. They had been walking for a while now. And it was a nice walk, not polluted by chatter. They were now climbing a small hill. It was a fair distance away from the town, and they were surrounded, now, just by grassy moors. Like they were the only two people in the world. It was a wonderful feeling. They finally reached the top of the hill. There was the smallest bench up at the top that could only comfortably fit two people. By the bench was a stone slab with a metal inscription on it. A date and a description.

"This is Yauriy Hill." He whispered behind her neck as she looked at it, sending goosebumps to pop up down her arms. "In the night, you can see every star in the sky."

And he was right, she realized as they sat themselves down on the wooden bench. There were more stars than _sky_. And it was absolutely beautiful. They looked up together at the unreachable celestial heavens above.

But Eleanor was in her own little heaven right down here on Earth.

oOoOoOo

"You want to know what _my _problem is!" Daria yelled, hopping up.

"Did you not hear what I just said?" He asked, sneering. So, _now _the real Jerrold showed up. Well, that was better. Because now, she could scream at him.

"Do you really not remember?" She yelled out. Angry and irritated.

"What did I do? The first time I saw you was at the ball!"

She ground her teeth. "You're kidding me right?"

"When did I see you before?"

"You really don't remember? You big headed, stuck up, no life _prat_!"

"What am I supposed to remember?" He asked angrily. He had never been more confused in his life. And that was saying something for a boy who'd listened to political conflicts since he could form words.

Daria was angry now. And finally, she let spill.

"That I'm the 'low-lifed' peasant you decided to dump your wine on!"

And then there was silence.

**A/N: **So you guys must tell me what you want to see in the next chapter. Because I have no idea. So help if you want it out fast enough. Also, if anyone wants to see Daria and Eleanor's dresses, they're right here!!!

(For Daria, I got two links.)

Daria: **.com/wc/fash/dressimages/Fashion_BridalGown__S1R8101_456_**

Eleanor:

**./2100/2417023036_abef3a0e41_**


	11. Author's note

A/N: Okay, so the Links didn't show up all too well.

I'll post them on my profile if anyone wants to see.


	12. Very Important

**A/N: **

**I'm sorry to everyone who had liked this story, but I am officially stopping it. I was getting uneasy about whether or not to continue it for a few months, but I was determined to keep trying, not because I liked the story, but just to please everyone who likes to read it. And it was summer, so I thought that'd be a lot of writing time. But me and my mother (my dad and brother stayed home and just let us go) went on vacation first thing. We were meeting a few relatives that lived in a different country. So we flew there. And we stayed for a couple of weeks. But then, on June 13, we were in a car with a few of our relatives, still there, and the car crashed into a bus. It was a major accident and I was dangerously wounded. I had lost so much blood I was close to dying. For two weeks I was unconscious. But then I woke up, and everyone was relieved. But still, my face is horribly scarred due to the injuries and I am still weak. But my dad was there in the hospital with me. When he had heard what happened, he came over as quick as he could, my brother coming a few days after I awoke. So I got out of the hospital after a couple of days, and then we finally went back to where my mom and I were staying before the accident. It was her father's house. Once we were there, my dad then told me the worst news of all. On that day, it was my mother that saved my life. And because of that, she couldn't save her own. My mother died in the car that day. Anyone should realize that after it's actually happened to me, I couldn't let this story go on. I am going to start another one about Lily and James in Harry Potter, but I'm writing it just for her. This story was such a lie, and I now hate it. Thank you all for reading it, and putting up with my horrible timings for updates, but I just need more than two weeks to get over the death of my mother.**


	13. The story doesn't have to end

**A/N: **

**I just wanted to tell you all that Whatever95 has decided to pick up my story and finish it. So if you do not want the story to end, take a look over to her profile and stories. It'll be there, under the same title and summary (with a mention of me in the summary). And remember, I am writing a new story right now! Lily/James of Harry Potter, and it's called Life's Game. So take a look. **


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